


Star Trek: Enterprise - Path of the Jedi

by allen_bair



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Wars - All Media Types, Stargate - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 06:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 89,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allen_bair/pseuds/allen_bair
Summary: A year after the events of "Star Trek: Enterprise - In a Galaxy Far Far Away," the crew of the NX-01 has been ordered to keep silence on the unexpected mission to the past, and Travis Mayweather is left with a gap in his memories. But when a rogue section of Starfleet intelligence begins research in the Sith and the dark side of the Force, in order to counter them, an ascended Jedi Master must return to mortality to restore the memories and training of the last living Jedi Knight, Lieutenant Travis Mayweather before their ancient conflict erupts once more and threatens the future of the nascent Coalition of Planets, the precursor to the United Federation of Planets.





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

 

The black uniformed figures moved throughout the old facility hidden deep under the tons of rock, trees, and living things that the people who lived on this world continued to call “Cheyenne Mountain.” The being of pure light moved among them, watching, observing every action, but taking care to not interfere with any of it.

 

Some days, non-interference was more challenging than others as the god-like being became increasingly disturbed by what he witnessed.

 

He was even more disturbed by what was within the minds of the black uniformed men, and their intentions in their use of the old United States Air Force base which he had, at one time over a century ago when he was still a mortal human being, thought of as his home.

 

But he could do nothing about it.

 

The Others would stop him if they knew he intervened in mortal affairs, and they almost always knew. It was their highest law, and one which he understood the reasons for: no ascended being will interfere with the free will and choices of those on the mortal plane of existence, regardless of the consequences of that non-interference. Regardless of their immense power, they were not gods, and neither were they going to play gods.

 

Most of the time, he had agreed with it and learned to live with it. In his mortal life he had seen the consequences of ascended beings like himself accepting or even encouraging worship as a deity, and it always became problematic at best for both the ascended and the mortals involved. At worst, it could have catastrophic consequences on the mortals in question.

 

He could, in theory, return to the mortal plane, but in so doing he would be signing his own death certificate. If he “descended”, there was very little chance he would be able to return, and he would die as any other mortal. Furthermore, as a mortal he would be powerless to do anything about what these men were planning, and he would most likely not remember why he had descended in the first place unless he wanted to risk brain damage from trying to retain everything he now knew as an ascended being.

 

Thus, he could only observe the scene unfolding before him in silence.

 

The black uniformed men were a clandestine branch of the United Earth government's emerging military and exploration force commonly called “Starfleet”. Much like the branch of the United States Air Force which, in his mortal life, had been his former employer, few in Starfleet even knew of their existence, and then they only referred to them by the clause in Starfleet's charter which supposedly justified their creation, “Section Thirty-One”. They were considered a part of Starfleet's intelligence unit, though in reality they answered to practically no one.

 

But, unlike the friends and colleagues he had once worked with in this very place, these men, especially their commanding officer, felt “dark.” That was the best way he could explain it to himself. And though he knew their thoughts and thus knew where the darkness was coming from, he still couldn't fully explain it.

 

Ancient documents and books which had formally been in the possession of the estate of a well known film maker from the ascended being's days as a mortal had come into the possession of Section thirty one's commanding officer. That, in and of itself, wasn't concerning. Section Thirty One collected and stored vast amounts of information to be used for their own purposes, ostensibly in the support and security of Starfleet and Earth's government. But what these men had been doing with those documents…

 

Like his own clandestine military organization a hundred and fifty years prior, they had been trying to study ascension, the process whereby a sentient, mortal being sheds his physical form and “ascends” to a higher plane of existence as a being of pure light and energy.

 

They had first learned about the reality of it upon their study of this facility's database when it was first discovered. If they had just stuck to what was in the database, everything would have been fine.

 

But then “the mission” happened. The one in which he himself had personally gotten caught up in, and thrown millions of years into the past and billions of light years to the other side of the universe along with the crew of Starfleet's flagship, the NX-01 “ _Enterprise_ ”, and what he had thought to be mere science fiction became a new reality for him to contend with.

 

That was when he, and then they, had learned that the “Star Wars” films were history and not fiction, the “Force” was real, and that somehow it was tied to the process of ascension. It was shortly after that when Section Thirty One discreetly raided the private estate archives of the family of George Lucas and searched far and wide for every book, every notebook, and every scrap of paper that had ever belonged to the man.

 

The ascended being stood in the room where those documents were now kept. It wouldn't take much. Just a single thought from him, and all of these documents would be destroyed. Just a flick of his will, and the original self-destruct charges could be set off, and everything in this underground bunker would be vaporized in a nuclear explosion. He could even contain the explosion so that it didn't reach where he didn't want it to go.

 

But then the Others would know. And for them, no good deed went unpunished. But what were the consequences for humanity, even for the rest of the galaxy if he didn't?

 

“A disturbance in the Force I sensed. Dark things there are here.” An aged and gravelly voice spoke to him.

 

If he had still been mortal, Daniel would have spun around in total surprise. As it was, the image the being who had joined him projected was that of a very small green skinned creature with large, kind eyes and long elf like ears with a tiny wooden cane held in his three fingered right hand. The image of him wore a brown and tan habit much like that of a monk.

 

“Surprised to see me you are?” The diminutive ascended being chuckled.

 

“To say the least.” Daniel responded. “The last time we met we were ninety billion light years across the universe, and millions of years ago. How did you…?”

 

“Travel through time? I did not.” His companion responded amiably. “Except the way everyone must. Millions of years have I watched, and traveled with those who came after as they moved across the vastness of space and time. Gone is the civilization I knew, but the way of the Force change is. These people, this galaxy, the heirs of our legacy they are.”

 

The simple, profound truth of his statement struck Daniel in a way he had never truly thought of.

 

The other being continued as his motioned in the direction of Section Thirty One's commanding officer who was several rooms away. “Dangerous is this man's research. Capable of causing the same wars, the same conflicts we fought to end is he. Destroy this young civilization he will.” The small aged being continued.

 

“Yeah, that's my concern too.” Daniel answered him, again contemplating the self-destruct charges.

 

“Don't.” His companion said. “Know your mind I do. Sacrifice yourself, do not. Another way, there may be.”

 

“I didn't know we could read each other's minds.” Daniel said.

 

“Not hard it was to know your intent. Watch you in your mortal life I did. Know what kind of a person you are, I do. A waste it would be. Understand, the Others would not.” The ancient master responded.

 

“But you do, don't you, Master Yoda?” He asked.

 

“Yes.” Yoda replied. “And agree with you I do, Daniel Jackson.”

 

“So... what's our alternative?” Daniel asked.

 

“Rising once more the Sith may be. To counter them, a Jedi is needed.” He responded.

 

“Okay. But the Jedi order is long gone. There are no more Jedi, master Yoda.” Daniel was trying to see where the ancient Jedi grandmaster was going with this, but it seemed like a dead end.

 

“Wrong you are, Daniel Jackson. One there remains. Forgotten he has, by your hand. Needed is he now. Remember he must, train he must.” Yoda told him.

 

“One remains...” Daniel tried to understand. Then he realized whom the Jedi master was speaking of and began to shake his shimmering projected head. “That would forever alter the course of his life, not to mention the course of this galaxy's progress. He's already been struggling to cope.”

 

“Know this I do. But a choice we have not. A Jedi we need. A Jedi he is.” Yoda responded resolutely.

 

“The Others won't let you interfere any more than they will let me.” Daniel pointed out.

 

“A good man, but young you are. So much you know Daniel Jackson, and yet so little as well.” Yoda replied sagely. “My ally is the Force, Daniel Jackson. One with the Force have I been for millions of years. One with the Force will I remain, whether mortal, or immortal. My choice it is. Take this choice away from me, the Others will not. Immortal, interfere I cannot. Mortal… Say nothing they will.”

 

“So, instead of me sacrificing myself, you make that sacrifice instead?” If he had still been mortal, a knot of guilt would have formed in Daniel's stomach.

 

“Logical it is.” Yoda replied. “Powerless you would be. The Force you would not know, or be able to use. Jedi I was for nine hundred years. One with the Force I have been for millions. My strength, my power, all that I am resides in the Force. Abandon me, the Force will not.”

 

“I wish I had your faith.” Daniel remarked.

 

“Easy faith is, when one knows the object of one's faith so well. Faith a person might have in the air he breathes. See it he does not, yet trust it for his life he does. So it is with the Force.” Yoda replied.

 

Daniel nodded in concession to the ancient master's wisdom. “I'll remain here and keep an eye on things. Maybe I can quietly stall their progress.”

 

“Bring him I will, when the time is right.” Yoda agreed.

 

Daniel almost felt silly at the impulse, but the words just seemed appropriate in parting, “May the Force be with you, Master Jedi.”

 

“And also with you, Daniel Jackson.” Yoda returned with a serious solemnity, and then he was gone.

 

Chapter 1

 

Captain's Log: June 19th, 2159

 

_The Enterprise has been ordered by Starfleet to investigate a derelict ship discovered by a cargo hauler on the edge of Klingon claimed space. The only details they've given me are the coordinates, and that the ship's deep in an asteroid belt around a red giant. The admiral tells me that there shouldn't be any issues with Kronos because we'll still be outside of their recognized borders, and, without any class M planets in the system, there's nothing of real value there to interest them. Trouble is, I'm not sure the Klingons recognize the same borders we do, and, as we've found out on more than one occasion, they don't like trespassers. Hopefully, we'll be in and out before anyone notices._

 

In his cabin and sitting at his work desk, Captain Archer sighed as he ended his log entry, and rubbed his temples in frustration. He didn't like this. No, he _really_ didn't like this. Classified orders for his eyes only, and even then only the barest description of what it was they were supposed to do. He might have even been breeching Starfleet security just entering the mission into the official record of the ship's logs.

 

At this point, he didn't care.

 

There were other ships, newer vessels even, that had been closer and could have checked out the space debris long before Enterprise could even reach that region of space. They had been in orbit around Andoria for several days on diplomatic duty, trying to further the unity of the coalition of planets he had helped to forge. But no, it had to be Enterprise and her crew. The admiral was very specific about that. He didn't want anyone else involved.

 

It was just a gut feeling, but it had the smell of Starfleet intelligence about it, and things usually went sideways for him and his crew whenever Starfleet intelligence became involved.

 

He tapped the button to call the bridge, “Archer to bridge.”

 

“Bridge here, Captain.” Came his weapons officer's response.

 

“Are all crew members returned from the planet?” He asked.

 

“Aye, sir. The last shuttle returned over an hour ago.” Lieutenant Commander Reed responded.

 

Archer noted that, then asked, “Are any delegates left on board?”

 

“Hang on sir, let me check.” Reed told him. A minute later he returned, “No, sir. We're clear of guests.”

 

“Good.” Archer responded. “Is Travis on duty yet?”

 

“Lieutenant Mayweather isn't due to report to the bridge for another two hours, sir; at oh-six-thirty.” Reed responded.

 

“Fine. Have the helm set course for the coordinates I'm sending up to the bridge. Maximum warp.” Archer said in a flat tone of voice.

 

“Aye, sir. New orders, sir?” Reed inquired.

 

Archer sighed again, “Yep.” He responded. “Have yourself and the rest of the senior bridge crew assemble in the ready room in an hour for a mission briefing.”

 

“Aye, sir.” Came Reed's response. “And what about Lieutenant Mayweather?”

 

 _Travis_ is _a lieutenant now, isn't he? It's been over a year. Why do I still think of him as an ensign?_ Archer asked himself.

 

“Just you, me, T'pol, and Tucker this time, Malcolm. Archer out.” He closed the call.

 

He looked down at himself. He hadn't even changed out of the gray shorts and tee shirt he wore to bed the night before. His head was still fuzzy from sleep as well.

 

Why did they have to send these kinds of orders at this time of the morning?

 

He needed coffee, and a quick shower before the meeting.

 

* * *

 

Travis found himself deep underground, in a bunker like those he had read about in his history lessons from the Eugenics War a hundred years ago. There was a dark, cold feeling to the place. He could sense some malevolent force emanating from the dusty and abandoned rooms all around him, but he couldn't place it exactly.

 

In his hand was a cylindrical tube that he somehow knew was a weapon. It felt familiar, and trustworthy, though he couldn't remember ever using one like it before.

 

Instinctively, he reached out with his senses to take in his surroundings. His heart began to pound as he picked up on two men down the corridor to his right. As the panic began to rise within him, he called to mind the words of a meditation he had been taught… When? He couldn't remember who taught him or when he had heard it.

 

    _There is no emotion, there is peace._
    _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._
    _There is no passion, there is serenity._
    _There is no chaos, there is harmony._
    _There is no death, there is…_
    
     A red light flashed off to his right and his ears picked up a familiar snap-hiss and hum of a very dangerous weapon. His mind and body were so attuned to the living energy around him that he reacted before it happened, and his own weapon was activated with the same snap-hiss as Travis somersaulted backwards and out of the reach of the red plasma blade.
    
    “You'll need to do better than that to stop me, Jedi.” Came a harsh, mocking voice.
    
    “Jedi?” Travis asked in confusion.
    
    Then his eyes flew open to the darkness of his his gray colored officer's quarters. He sat upright in his bunk, his blue undergarments that he had slept in were soaked with sweat.
    
    “Man, what a dream.” He said to himself as he rubbed his face in his dark skinned hands.
    
    He looked at his chronometer. “Oh five hundred hours. Time to get up anyway.” He said to himself.
    
    It wasn't the first time he had that kind of dream. Sometimes he was in a temple being put through the most insane calisthenics course and doing things that just weren't humanly possible. Other times he was sneaking through the corridors of a huge alien ship, and then fighting some old guy with the same kind of red plasma sword he had just seen in this morning's dream. None of them really made any sense. They were like something out of some old science fiction movies he had seen a while back, though he couldn't really remember those either.
    
    He moved to the lavatory unit of his quarters to quickly wash up before heading to the mess hall for a quick breakfast before his duty shift on the bridge.
    
     _Man, there sure are a lot of new faces,_ He thought to himself as he passed his blue uniformed crew mates through the corridors. He realized he didn't recognize more than half of those he saw, although all of them seemed to know who he was. _Makes sense, I suppose_ , he considered, _I am a bridge officer after all._ Still, it felt weird to him to see so many strangers among what had been a pretty tight knit family of crew mates.
    
     He had grown up running from planet to planet at warp two on his parents' cargo freighter, _Horizon,_ where his dad had been the captain, his mother the chief engineer (as well as a dozen other positions on board), and everyone else as close as kin. Life these past eight years on board the _Enterp_ _r_ _ise_ had become a lot like that. It had been a small town where everyone knew each other, and everyone had gone through hell and back with each other. It had forged bonds that almost went deeper than blood with his captain, and his fellow officers.
    
     He passed a crew member he did know, Ensign Bradley from engineering, and gave a wide smile and “Hey!” to him as he hurried along.
    
    Ensign Bradley smiled back and waved, “Hey, Lieutenant! Running late?”
    
    “Nah, I've got twenty minutes. Plenty of time!” He returned as he continued down the corridor in a hurry.
    
     _Funny_ , Travis considered to himself as Bradley disappeared out of sight behind him, _it's that same look again._
    
     Travis had noticed “the look” almost a year ago. It was this look of respect, almost awe at times, that his crew mates gave him now. He usually saw it when he pulled off one of his nearly impossible piloting maneuvers. Sure, they tried to hide it, but he'd always catch it. He couldn't understand why or what the big deal was. After six years, they should have been used to his skills by now. “Most natural stick and rudder man I've ever known.” That's what his dad had told Captain Archer to convince the captain to bring him on as _Enterprise's_ helmsman.
    
     The look began right after “the mission.” The mission they had returned from, and he couldn't remember the details of to save his own life. The one mission he wished he did remember. There were so many feelings and emotions attached to it, but every time he tried to remember, he ran into a void in his mind as though it never happened.
    
    But something had happened, he knew. It had to have. Because none of his crew mates, not even Commander Tucker, would discuss it with him, but somehow it clearly involved him in a big way. Every time he'd try to get close, they'd change the subject. Once, he even tried to ask the captain directly.
    
    “I'm sorry, Travis. But Starfleet's ordered this so classified only the top brass are allowed access.” He had told him.
    
    “But I was there, sir!” Had been his response. “What can't I know about my own involvement?”
    
    “Sorry, Travis. That's all I can tell you.” Was the Captain's final word on it.
    
    Travis hadn't tried again with Captain Archer after that.
    
    Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Commander Reed weren't any more helpful.
    
    “Travis, I've already said all I'm gonna say.” Commander Tucker told him in his distinctive southern drawl, both empathetic and exasperated at the same time, when he approached him off duty privately in his quarters. “Starfleet intelligence would have all of our heads on a silver platter if any of us so much as breathed a word about the mission to anyone, even each other. Now, I'm sorry, but I've got my job to do and so do you.”
    
    “I'd keep clear of this, if I were you lieutenant.” Reed had told him when Travis had cornered him as discreetly as he could. “When certain people from Starfleet intelligence get involved...” He had trailed off with a deep sigh. “Just stay clear of it, alright?”
    
    As Travis had left that last conversation with Reed about it, he would have sworn he caught him saying the words under his breath in his crisp British accent, “...might need a Jedi if they learned we even mentioned it.”
    
    “Jedi.” The word sounded so familiar, like it had been important to him at one time, though he couldn't remember where he had heard it, or even what it meant. After looking it up in the ship's database, he learned it had been a reference to an old science fiction series involving several movies, television episodes, books and other media from the late twentieth and early twenty first centuries collectively called _Star Wars_. What any of it could have to do with him, however, completely escaped him.
    
     Travis looked up at the ship's clock as he pulled a muffin and coffee from the selections in the mess hall. Ten minutes left to the start of his shift. _No time to sit and chat_ , he decided as he wolfed down his muffin and took his coffee with him back down the corridor towards the lift to the bridge.
    
    * * *
    
    The bridge crew looked tense as they drew nearer the coordinates of the derelict ship they had been ordered to investigate. Each of them were distinctly aware of the closeness of the borders of Klingon space; borders the Empire itself barely recognized.
    
    “Any other ships in the vicinity on sensors yet?” Archer asked out loud as they dropped out of warp to impulse speed.
    
    “No, sir. Although I'm reading what looks like a massive debris field ahead.” The ship's tactical officer replied. “I recommend we polarize the hull. That should be enough to protect us from minor collisions.”
    
    “Do it.” Archer responded flatly as he kept his eyes on the viewscreen. He took turns standing, pacing the bridge, and sitting in his captain's chair as they progressed towards their goal. To be honest, he'd rather be anywhere else in the galaxy at this point, and not within spitting distance of an alien race that was known for it's “shoot first and forget the questions” policy on trespassing.
    
     _Why did it have to be us? We were perfectly happy hosting the Andorians._ He thought to himself.
    
     The debris field grew in the view screen as they moved forward. On the screen, chunks of metal, plastic, and other man made debris of various sizes and shapes passed by them, though the debris was getting larger and more defined the further into the field they came. Soon, shapes of smaller fighter craft as well as sections of larger craft came into view.
    
    “Looks like our Klingon friends forgot to clean up their mess when they were done. Commander Tucker said from his engineering station on the bridge.
    
    Archer was about to agree until T'Pol moved over to Reed's console and conferred with him quietly. He noticed the look of surprise on Reed's face when she pointed something out to him, and he looked over the results again, apparently not able to challenge her argument.
    
    Finally T'Pol spoke up, “None of this debris belongs to any known class of vessel operated by the Empire.” She pronounced. She then added, “Scans also indicate that none of it could have originated with any known Klingon manufacturing process.” She then turned back to her screen.
    
    On a gut feeling, Archer asked the two of them, “Any idea how old this junkyard is?” On the view screen, he could now see the husks of small ships that looked strangely and disturbingly familiar.
    
    “'Graveyard' would be a more accurate term, sir.” Reed responded. “I'm reading biological remains, lots of biological remains, all around and inside the ship debris.”
    
    “How old, Malcolm?” Archer repeated his question, growing increasingly uncomfortable at the now very recognizable images of dead ships he was seeing. Ship designs similar to those he had only last encountered a year ago on a mission now so classified he wasn't even certain that the United Earth president knew anything about it.
    
    “Preliminary scans of the debris field indicate an approximate age of three point six million Earth years, Captain.” T'Pol responded.
    
    As Archer gazed at the view screen, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, the image of a single, massive, triangular shaped vessel grew in the view screen directly ahead of them.
    
     _Damn_. Archer thought to himself as he looked around at those crewmen still on the bridge. “Trip, Malcolm, Travis, Hoshi, and T'Pol stay put. Everyone else, clear the bridge. Now.” He ordered. As the other three or four crewmen immediately left the bridge, he worried they had already seen too much for their own good, but there was nothing he could do about it except hope they weren't fans of classical science fiction cinema.
    
     _Damn._ He thought to himself. They could have warned me what we were sent to find before we got here. _I could have kept those crewmen off the bridge._ Then he thought about all those other crewmen just staring out their view ports and realized there's no way he could keep any of them from seeing what he was seeing accidentally. _So much for top secret need-to-know clearance_ , he thought to himself.
    
    When the lift doors had shut, all eyes were on the triangle ghost ship in front of them, dead in space for a very, very long time. It had taken a severe amount of damage in the battle which had left the debris field, but the “T” shaped bridge which rose towards the base of the triangle was just as distinctive as ever, as were the massive, ship swallowing engine exhaust ports along the base.
    
    “I guess we know now why Starfleet intelligence wanted us specifically to investigate it.” Reed finally said, breaking the silence.
    
    Archer had already come to the same conclusion from the wreckage of the sleek long nosed, one man fighters and their distinctive crossed “X-wing” attack configuration they had been flying through. He briefly glanced at Travis, wondering if he should have had him leave too, since he couldn't remember any of it. But then his gut told him to keep Travis right where he was.
    
    The last time they had encountered this class of ship, they had needed the special skills his helmsman had been trained in during that mission. Archer's gut told him they would again as he stared at the carcass of what looked to him like an Imperial Star Destroyer from millions of years ago, and a galaxy on the other side of the universe.
    
    


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

The man in the yellow trimmed blue Starfleet jumpsuit watched the men and women work with some satisfaction. The rank insignia on his uniform indicated “commander,” and the name on the uniform said “Bryant”. Both would only be true until the work on the new facility was done. After that, the uniform would be destroyed, and “Commander Bryant” would cease to exist.

 

He was known simply as “Wilson” by those who had regular “official” business with him. What name and rank within Starfleet he actually held was a total mystery, and those who attempted to find out hit restricted files and dossiers so classified that not even Earth's president was permitted to view them. He knew this for a fact because he had seen to the file restrictions personally.

 

The technicians working to make the underground bunker operational again had been ahead of his schedule in refurbishing and re-outfitting the archaic facility with modern technology more appropriate to his purposes. Each day they would use the transporter pad that had been installed on day one to beam themselves and the new equipment into the underground chambers and work from dawn to dusk before returning to their makeshift worker's camp in the forest around the mountain. Of course none of the technicians had any idea of what this facility would eventually be used for even though they represented some of the best engineers Starfleet had available.

 

They were so efficient, he thought, it really was a shame that none of them would live past the completion of Section Thirty-One's new operations base. It was brutal, but a necessary evil to preserve the hyper-clandestine nature of his section's existence.

 

He would arrange convenient transporter accidents for each of the twenty men and women on the last day. They would step on the transporter pad, dematerialize, and then simply never re-materialize. None of them would feel a thing. Their families would be notified by Starfleet of the tragedy and told of their great service to Earth's security. There would be an inquiry into the deaths, Starfleet intelligence would sweep it under the rug, and his section would quietly erase any further mention of it from Starfleet's database, removing the temptation for anyone to attempt oversight of things they really don't want to know about. Everyone would have a good cry over the good men and women lost, a period of mourning, and then everyone would get back to business as usual. Crisp, clean, and relatively painless for everyone.

 

He wasn't a particularly cruel man, after all. He was just being pragmatic. And, unfortunately, it required a heavy dose of pragmatism to balance out the idealists running Starfleet and and the nascent Coalition of Planets.

 

He had no issue with his government's desire to form strong alliances with friendly worlds. Hell, he thought it was a great idea. But since the discovery of the old Stargate Program's database here in this very underground cavern and the description of Earth's previous clandestine alliances with other worlds, the report from the crew of the _Enterprise_ about the galactic republic that had been achieved millions of years in the past and the very real difficulties it had undergone, and even just a basic understand of the history of Earth's own governments and their rises and falls… Well, let the idealists believe that their diplomacy and the natural good-heartedness of people regardless of their species will unite the Alpha Quadrant into one big “kumbaya”. They could think that for as long as they wanted.

 

They didn't need to know about the disappearances of little-known pacifist Vulcan professors opposed to military alliances with anyone, or the blackmail of contrary Andorian senators to stay quiet. They didn't need to know about the thousand and one unsavory necessities which kept the wheels of the Coalition firmly on track. And his section didn't need their idealism getting in the way of practical realities. They couldn't have it both ways. Pure, idealistic democracy doesn't work and never did. The ancient Romans and Greeks understood that. The old United States government understood that. And those who were responsible for the creation of Section Thirty One under Starfleet's charter understood that as well.

 

“Commander Bryant” walked through the halls of the ancient underground base inspecting the new installation of plasma conduits and modern computer consoles. They had only appropriated the lowest two levels of the twenty seven level deep bunker. That was all they really needed in a base of operations. And the ruins of the top twenty five levels would serve as an effective deterrent for anyone adventurous enough to try exploring through the nooks and crannies of what was left of the old Air Force facility nearer the surface.

 

He then turned into what had been officially known over a hundred years previously as the “embarkation room”. It was an irony that no one from that old program ever referred to it that way, preferring to call it simply and with much understatement, “the gate room.” It was the centerpiece of the entire facility, and the whole _raison d'etre_ of its existence he mused as he gazed upon the huge metal ring which had been resurrected and raised in the center of it.

 

Thirty nine symbols were etched around the face of the ring, and seven metal chevrons were positioned around the diameter. The alien race of humanity that had originally operated it had called it a “chappa'ai,” although those who had made this facility their life's work before the Eugenics Wars of the early to mid twenty first century had christened it “the Stargate”. And, as he had learned through meticulous study of their records, there were hundreds, if not thousands of them scattered throughout the Milky Way alone, all of which were accessible through this one by simply dialing up the right combination of symbols.

 

Three technicians had been assigned to this physics defying device alone with the goal of simply making it work again after over a century of inactivity. The original dialing software had to be retrieved from the ancient, damaged hardware, and the physical connections to the Stargate had all been severed and destroyed by the damage to the cavern from the nuclear attack on the mountain a hundred years prior. They had been able to retrieve the original designs, but for some reason, for archaic technology, it was proving to be more difficult to replicate than they had originally believed. It seemed a certain Dr. Samantha Carter was farther ahead of her time than anyone believed. This facility wouldn't be fully operational until they were able to bring the Stargate online again. Until then, it was an exotic, over-sized, alien paperweight.

 

He left the gate room and turned right and up a decidedly low-tech flight of stairs to reach the previous base commander's office where he had set up his own private office. In here had been stored the other “alien archive” which bore much further study, especially after the _Enterprise's_ relatively recent experiences in the past.

 

He sat down in the black padded, comfortable metal frame chair that had replaced the original red leather ruin that had been discovered by the excavation team and began to go through the journals and diaries of the now famous film maker that had stumbled upon the more exotic pieces of the collection during a day trip to Glastonbury Abby in the British Isles.

 

Among the papers and books had been three objects covered in as yet undeciphered alien script. One was a four sided pyramid embedded with glowing red crystal. The other two were cubes covered in the same script, but embedded with glowing blue crystal. The film maker's notes referred to them as “holocrons”. Wilson had gone to great lengths to discreetly retrieve them from the film maker's descendants several months ago after learning of them from the journals he had been able to recover from other sources. All of the man's private journals referred to them as the source material for the most famous of his cinematic art.

 

Except, try as he might, he couldn't seem to get the glowing paperweights to tell him anything of any importance. According to the man's journals, all he did was place his fingertips on the devices and they spoke to him in some way as he concentrated.

 

So far, the two blue ones, the ones that had been the film maker's primary sources had been completely silent to Section Thirty One's chief handler. The red one had responded to Wilson's interaction somewhat, but only enough to tell him it was the sum total of the knowledge passed down by a “Sith” master named Darth Tizan, and only those worthy of being his apprentice would be able to access the information contained therein. So far, Wilson hadn't figured out how to make himself worthy of the Sith master's tutelage. But, according to the notes, the ancient Sith Master's holocron hadn't responded well to George Lucas's touch at all.

 

In his time, the man had been considered a brilliant film maker, and something of a moderate philanthropist. From the research Wilson had done, George Lucas had pioneered the film making methods and technology which made the rest of the late twentieth and early twenty first films possible, adding realism, sound, and computer graphics technology which had been previously unheard of or underutilized. He typically encouraged other aspiring film makers, and turned a blind eye when they used the characters and plot lines from his films to explore their own talents and creativity. He could have demanded money from them under the legal code which protected an author's work at the time, although he never did. Those aspiring artists affectionately referred to him as “uncle George” in return. He was also an amateur, but avid student of mythology and religious beliefs. He was considered a good man by almost everyone who knew him.

 

Apparently, the red pyramid wasn't looking for a “good” man to reveal its secrets to. But as the blue cubes were completely silent to him, it was his only option.

 

Wilson was okay with that, he had decided. He had fought that battle a long time ago. It was better to be pragmatic than “good” in his profession. The question that arose, however, was how “not good” did the holocron require him to be?

 

He placed the palm of his right hand over the apex of the pyramid and began to concentrate, deciding to focus on the question at hand. Within a few minutes, words began to materialize within his mind:

 

 _Peace is a lie, there is only passion._  
Through passion, I gain strength.  
Through strength, I gain power.  
Through power, I gain victory.  
Through victory, my chains are broken.  
The Force shall free me.

 

And then the red pyramid was silent once more.

 

Wilson steepled his hands together and sat back in his chair, pensive as to what the holocron's answer meant.

 

* * *

 

The _Enterprise_ drew up along the bottom of the dead, millions-of-years-old warship, as it took closer readings and the bridge crew visually inspected the outer hull; carrying out their orders to investigate it. Massive “spotlights” were turned onto the surface of the vessel from _Enterprise's_ hull in order to get a better look at it. In the shadow of the ancient Star Destroyer class warship, the NX-01 looked and felt like a small shuttle at best instead of the most advanced and largest ship in Earth's fleet.

 

On the bridge, T'Pol and Malcolm poured over the data which the ship's sensors were feeding them. Near as the sensors could tell, it was the only large vessel in the debris field which was still mostly intact. If there had been an equally sized ship, it had been on the losing side in the contest.

 

Memories of the last time they had encountered one of these vessels in person flooded Captain Archer's mind. There had been some bright spots, to be sure, during that unexpected “mission”, but then there had also been some dark ones as well. He remembered very clearly as to how dark the Jedi Master he had come to know had informed him it could have been. But, that was millions of years in the past.

 

His bigger concern wasn't what happened in the past at all. No, his bigger concern was what would happen to the members of his crew who weren't authorized to know anything about it and just happened to look out a port hole. If it had just been Starfleet Intelligence he had to contend with it wouldn't have been as big of a deal, but his gut told him now like it had been telling him over the past year that it was the “other section” of S.I. The one that had nearly cost him not only his ship, but the lives of everyone on board and the loyalty of one of his best officers. It was the memory of that other, shadow S.I. that was the source of the knot which had formed in his stomach.

 

“Captain, sensors are giving an anomalous reading of the derelict Star Destroyer.” T'Pol informed him without raising her head from the computer display at her station.

 

There, someone had finally acknowledged what everyone was seeing on the display. Leave it to T'Pol to do it matter-of-factly without any emotion in her voice.

 

Archer looked back towards her, “What kind of 'anomalous reading'?”

 

“There is a large section of the vessel which appears to have breathable atmosphere and power to the gravity plating near, if memory serves correctly, the hanger bay portion of the ship.” T'Pol responded.

 

“After three million years?” Archer asked incredulously, looking back at the forward view screen. “How is that even possible?”

 

“That's not the strangest reading we're getting, Captain.” Malcolm added.

 

Archer turned back to face him, “It's not?” He asked.

 

“No, sir. If ship's sensors are working right, there's a single life form on board in the same area.” He told him.

 

Archer's eyebrows rose and his first thought which he had almost asked was “a survivor?” But then he immediately dismissed the thought and said nothing. Not after eons of time, not if they were the same kind of humanoid people he and his crew had met before, he thought to himself.

 

Now what do we do?

 

“There was no mention of any of those kinds of readings in the original report, was there Cap?” Trip asked.

 

“No, Trip.” Archer responded pensively considering his options. In the end, there was only one which he felt he could live with.

 

“Travis, see if we can't come up into the hanger bay and find a working docking hatch near the section with life support. If, by some chance, there's still someone here that could use our help, we'll check it out.” He told his helmsman, hoping it wasn't the wrong decision.

 

“Aye, sir...” Travis acknowledged, trailing off with some hesitancy, a look of confusion on his face as he looked back and forth between the other bridge officers.

 

“Is there a problem lieutenant?” Archer asked, picking up on it.

 

“I'm, uh...” he felt awkward as he searched for a way to explain what should have been obvious, “not familiar with this class of vessel, sir. Exactly where is the hangar bay?”

 

Right. Travis's memory block. For the brief second he had taken to make his decision, Archer had forgotten about his helmsman's strange amnesia.

 

Malcolm came to the rescue. “I'm feeding the coordinates to the helm now, sir.”

 

“Thanks Malcolm.” Archer responded.

 

Travis expertly maneuvered the ship up into the expansive cavity in the belly of the triangular warship. The _Enterprise's_ external lights and spotlights on the artificial cavern revealed twisted decks and the remains of the small, light attack craft which hadn't become a part of the debris field outside. Through the view screen they could also discern several two and four legged armored vehicles which were strangely still intact.

 

“We could use the transporter and beam an away team in.” Malcolm offered as he continued to search for what seemed like a needle in a haystack.

 

“We'll keep that option open, but there's bound to be a lot of debris, and we don't know if they have a receiving pad or not, if it's in the section with life support, or even if it would be functional.” Archer responded. “I don't want to risk a team materializing in a bulkhead that's not supposed to be there if I don't have to.”

 

“It would have been useful if the power that be would have let us keep the sensor data we collected.” Malcolm added.

 

“Well, what do you think? Any docking structures we might be able to use?” Archer turned to ask T'Pol behind him. “If I remember right, the ships we were in before didn't seem to need them. The whole hangar bay had been enclosed with atmosphere protected by some kind of a force shield.”

 

T'Pol continued to stare at her display. “According to sensors, there appears to be one docking ring that should provide an adequate seal sixty eight point three degrees to starboard.” She reported. “It appears to be intact.”

 

* * *

 

The metallic copper EVA suit seemed like overkill to Travis as he entered the lit, atmosphere filled corridor with Captain Archer and Commander Tucker through the docking ring. Truth was, he wasn't sure why the captain had brought him along, not that he was complaining. It was a chance to see something else he hadn't seen before, and he was always up for that.

 

Although as he looked down the austere white and gray corridor of the alien vessel, for some reason it felt familiar. A scene of him running down a similar corridor flashed through his mind. He was holding a blue plasma sword weapon as he charged at… at… Just like that the memory was gone. He put his hand to his helmet's face plate reflexively as he lowered his head. A mild headache began to form.

 

“You okay, Travis?” Captain Archer asked, concerned, but not seeming all that surprised.

 

“I think so, sir. Just… I don't know what it was. An image, or a memory or something.” Travis responded as he straightened up. “But I don't know what it could have been from.”

 

“What did it feel like to you?” Archer asked.

 

What did it feel like? The question seemed odd to Travis, but as he focused on what he felt, he was more certain of it. “It felt like a memory of being here before, or in a ship like it. But I don't know how that's possible.”

 

“Let me know if it happens again.” Archer told him.

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

Archer wondered, not for the first time, if he really should have made the lieutenant a part of the away team. He hadn't been going to at first, instead preferring his communications officer Hoshi Sato, or his science officer in the more logical event that he would need their skills more than his helmsman. But just as he was going to call Hoshi, who would have preferred to stay on the bridge anyway, something stopped him. It was another gut feeling, and an almost audible but small voice which said, “no, take Travis.”

 

He again wondered if he shouldn't have broken orders and filled his helmsman in on what happened on their hyperspace engine test mission the year prior; especially concerning everything which had happened to Travis himself. There were times when orders had to be broken. He had known that for a long time. Sometimes that was the only way anything got done. So why hadn't he just sat Travis down yet?

 

“Sir, the EVA suit confirms what sensor data told us. The atmosphere in here is breathable.” Malcolm spoke up, drawing Archer out of his inner debate.

 

“Any idea yet as to how that's possible?” His captain asked him.

 

“No, sir, unless their atmosphere generators and life support systems were far more reliable than we even believed when we encountered them before.” Malcolm responded. “But I do recommend using it and conserving our suits' oxygen for the time being.”

 

“Agreed.” Archer told him. The captain was the first to remove his helmet. The air was crisp and cold, but not uncomfortable.

 

“It's cold, but there's enough heat in here to keep us from freezing. The air smells fresh, not stale.” Archer said. “Almost like it's being circulated. I'd guess someone or something has either been maintaining life support at low levels for a very long time, or someone has recently managed to get them working again for this area of the ship.”

 

The other two removed their helmets and took their first breaths of the ancient warship's air.

 

“Why would someone bother activating the life support systems and gravity plating in a small area of a derelict ship like this?” Malcolm asked.

 

“Don't know. My guess is that we'll find out once we know what's causing the life form readings.” Archer responded, then turning to Travis he asked, “Where do we go from here, Lieutenant?”

 

Travis looked at his hand held scanner. “The scanner's narrowed it down to a single, unknown bio signature, sir. It's coming from down the corridor about twenty meters and to the left.”

 

“Lead the way.” Archer said with a gesture to Travis to take the lead.

 

The corridor itself was dimly lit with only just enough of a bluish white glow from overhead lighting to see one's way by and no more. On the deck plating at their feet could be seen bits of twisted metal and cabling.

 

“Look at the size of those stress fractures.” Malcolm pointed out as he gestured to large cracks which ran through the corridor walls. “How is this corridor maintaining atmosphere?”

 

Archer ran another scanner over the walls, looking at the results on the screen. His face came away with a puzzled expression.

 

“According to my scanner it shouldn't. That fracture runs all the way through to the hanger, which we know is decompressed. I'm not reading any energy or force shields in between. That doesn't necessarily mean there's not some technology the scanners can't pick up at work, though.” Archer said. “We're still not the most advanced species out here.” Under his breath where he thought Travis couldn't hear, he added, “And these people had almost fifty thousand years of technology on us.”

 

They reached the point where the scanner said they should turn and found themselves at a door which, at one time, must have fully retracted into the top of the door frame to open but was now jammed a third of the way from the top. The three stepped through the door frame and into the room beyond.

 

Like the corridor before it, it was illuminated only with that same bluish white light. Archer switched on the light beam fixed to the back of his EVA suit's gauntleted hand and shone it around the small chamber which couldn't have been more than five meters square.

 

“It looks like some kind of a small storage unit.” Malcolm said, surveying the small room.

 

There were small, metal boxes along the floor and up against the walls. The walls of the room were a white metal that contrasted with obsidian colored panels that lined them, two to a wall. The panels were about a meter wide and a little over two meters tall. Small green and red lights flashed lazily from displays over the panels, just under where the wall met the ceiling.

 

Travis held the scanner in front of him and followed it through the room right up to a darkened panel set in the wall opposite the door.

 

“The life form reading is coming from here.” He told the other two as he studied the panel. It was covered with a thin coating of frost or condensation. Next to the panel was a small, black, rectangular metallic plate with alien symbols etched around it.

 

Where have I seen that language before? Travis asked himself. Out loud he said, “This writing looks familiar, but I can't recall from where.”

 

The other two men were silent, but exchanged knowing glances behind him.

 

He placed his right hand over the plate, lightly brushing his finger tips over the symbols. Immediately the obsidian panel in the wall in front of him lit up with a bright white light to reveal a transparent window, about two meters by one meter.

 

“What is that?” Malcolm asked as the three looked through the newly illumined window at a vaguely humanoid shape a little over half a meter tall behind it. He wiped away some of the condensation which obscured the details of the illumined figure. The diminutive figure had a squat head with oversized, closed eyes. What looked like large, elf like ears protruded from the sides of the alien's head. It had a smattering of light brown and gray hair scatted over an otherwise bald, green skinned and wrinkled head. “I don't recall this species.” He said.

 

Archer remained silent as some recognition of the creature, or at least an image of the creature in front of him came to his mind. Granted, that was an old science fiction movie, but then this whole vessel was straight out of that same science fiction movie.

 

“I think the better question is 'who'?” Travis said in response looking at his scanner. “According to these readings, whoever or whatever it might be is still alive.” After staring a little longer at it. “He looks familiar somehow. Like I've seen him before in a dream or something.”

 

“He?” Malcolm asked. “How do you know what gender it is, or even if it has one?”

 

“I don't know.” Travis responded. “I just look at him, and I feel like I should know him somehow. Like we've got some sort of connection.”

 

Archer considered this information and then asked, “Are there any readings coming from any of these other panels in the wall?”

 

“No, sir.” Travis responded as he pointed his scanner towards the other panels. “Just this one.”

 

“This is what we do,” Archer reminded himself. He pulled out his communicator. “Archer to _Enterprise_.”

 

His science officer's emotionless voice came back, “ _Enterprise_ here, go ahead Captain.”

 

“T'pol, we've located a single, humanoid life form still alive in some kind of a stasis or suspended animation chamber. Have Dr. Phlox suit up and meet us here as soon as he can. I don't want to do anything further with the unit until he checks it out and tells us we aren't going to accidentally kill whoever's in here.” Archer told her.

 

“Aye, Captain.” T'Pol responded.

 

“Thanks. Archer out.” Her captain ended the transmission.

 

Archer put his communicator away and stared again at the tiny elfin figure in front of him. Looks like I'm going to have that conversation with Travis one way or the other, he thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

_Captain's Log: June 26 th, 2159_

 

_After further investigation and sensor scans, Commanders Tucker and T'Pol have determined that the derelict warship was abandoned by its crew shortly after the battle which caused the debris field around it. Their best educated guess is that the extensive stress fractures and damage, most likely caused by combat, were and remain irreparable, and caused the ship to decompress slowly enough to give the surviving crew time to evacuate. The section of the ship which we encountered was apparently the last section of the ship still able to maintain its atmospheric compression, albeit barely._

 

_The derelict ship bears an uncanny resemblance to one of the Imperial Star Destroyer class warships we encountered a year ago on a mission which has since been so highly classified by Starfleet Intelligence that all mention of it will likely be erased from this log upon return to Earth. Our sensors are telling us that the remains of the ship and debris field are three and a half million years old._

 

_While investigating the derelict ship, we encountered a humanoid life form asleep in suspended animation in some kind of a stasis chamber. After Dr. Phlox gave the all clear, we have unsealed the chamber and brought the unconscious being on board and into sickbay where he remains unconscious, but stable as far as Phlox can tell. I can't help but notice that Phlox's new patient bears a striking resemblance to a character from a classical science fiction movie series called “Star Wars”. Having previewed that series recently, if I remember right, it was a character who was supposed to have died from old age. From what I remember from that mission I mentioned, those films were based on historical situations and people from millions of years ago and a galaxy on the other side of the universe. This begs the question, how did this person end up in my sickbay? I and my senior officers finding the idea of power generators and technology, even as advanced as the derelict ship appears to be, keeping a survivor alive for millions of years to be pretty hard to believe as it is. However, we have found no evidence of anyone boarding the Star Destroyer before us since it was abandoned. So, for right now, as improbable as it may seem, we're going with the survivor explanation._

 

The hypospray against the wrinkled, light green skin hissed as the small dose of, as far as Phlox could tell, harmless stimulant entered the bloodstream of the tiny, obviously aged being on the examination table. One was never fully certain of the compatibility of medications with unknown xenophysiologies. But after studying the being's chemical and cellular structures, the Denobulan physician was reasonably certain it at least wouldn't harm him and should have the intended effect.

 

Captain Archer had been right, Phlox thought to himself, as he glanced at his captain standing opposite him on the other side of the exam table also waiting for the stimulant to do its work. He did bear a striking resemblance to the wise mentor character from the _Star Wars_ series of motion pictures which Phlox had been given the privilege to view some time ago, right down to the brown, burlap like monastic robes.

 

The tiny figure blinked his eyes open slowly, and just as slowly moved them around taking in his surroundings as far as he could without moving his head. Phlox used this small moment of orientation to take some vital readings with a scanner he held over his patient. The readings done, he placed the scanner on a table to the side and picked up a small, white and silver bar-like device and pressed the power button. He then fixed the device to the front of his doctor's coat.

 

“I see we're finally waking up. I understand you've had quite a long sleep.” Phlox said, speaking close, but not into the device.

 

The being slowly nodded his head. “How… how long, asleep have I been?” He asked haltingly.

 

Of course, though Phlox heard it in English, Starfleet's official language of use, he knew that the being was actually asking in a language which should have been nowhere close. Strange that the universal translator had picked it up and translated it right away. Phlox was no expert on the U.T., but he thought that meant the language, or a variant of it must be in the U.T.'s database already.

 

“A very, very long time, my friend.” Phlox said with a gentle smile. He didn't want to overwhelm him with how long they thought he had been asleep. “Do you have a name we can call you?” He asked.

 

The being appeared to think for a minute, as if trying to recall a distant memory. He then said, “Yoda, my name is. And yours?”

 

Both Archer's and Phlox's eyes went wide as he and the doctor glanced at each other in surprise. So, Phlox thought to himself, more than a movie after all, just like the rest.

 

“You can call me Dr. Phlox. I'm the resident physician on board the _Enterprise_.” Phlox responded.

 

The small being took in this information and gave a satisfied expression. Yoda then turned his head to look at Phlox as if studying him. He then turned his head the other way and studied Captain Archer's features. “And yours?” He asked the captain.

 

“My name's Jonathan Archer. I'm the captain of the ship you're on.” Archer told him. His tone of voice was a little softer than Phlox would have expected given the tension his captain had been displaying over the past week. Perhaps it had something to do with Yoda's aged and somewhat helpless appearance. “Do you feel like you can answer some questions for me?”

 

“Questions...” Yoda repeated. “Questions, yes. Questions I might answer.” He said, trying to sit up a little.

 

“We found you in what looked like some kind of stasis chamber in a ship which looks like it was abandoned a very long time ago. Can you tell us how you got there?” Archer asked.

 

Yoda seemed to process this information pensively. Finally he answered shaking his head, “No. Know how I came to be there I do not.”

 

“Can you tell us what is the last thing you do remember?” Dr. Phlox asked, thinking something simpler might be more in order.

 

“Speaking with someone I was. Deep underground. An old friend was he. Darkness there was, much danger we foresaw.” Yoda responded. “A ship you found me on?” He then asked.

 

“Yes. An Imperial Star Destroyer if I remember the class type correctly. It was adrift in a debris field we think was caused by a battle.” Archer told him. “Can you tell us anything about it?”

 

Yoda closed his eyes and appeared deep in thought. “Tell you anything I cannot. On the ship during the battle, I was not. Sorry, I am.”

 

Lines of frustration began to crease Archer's face. “And you don't remember anything about how you got on that ship?”

 

“No.” The aged petite being responded.

 

“Captain,” Phlox then interceded taking the captain aside and hopefully out of earshot of their new “guest”, “keep in mind that he may have been in suspended animation for over three million years. He may be lucky he remembers his own name, much less anything else.”

 

Archer nodded, relenting. “Keep me posted on his progress.” He said.

 

“Yes, captain.” Phlox responded.

 

Archer nodded towards Yoda and said, “We'll talk later after you've recovered a but more. You're in good hands with Dr. Phlox here. He'll take good care of you.”

 

Yoda nodded his aged head at him, but said nothing in response, instead looking intently at Captain Archer as if he was studying his face.

 

“Right.” Archer said, and then left sickbay.

 

Phlox again faced his patient and asked with another friendly smile, “Well Yoda, it's been some time since you've eaten anything. How would you like to start with some nice warm, vegetarian Plomeek soup? From what I understand, our chef has become quite adept at making it for Commander T'Pol.”

 

Yoda nodded in response, attempting a smile. “Good that sounds.” He answered weakly.

 

* * *

 

Archer returned to the bridge with more questions than when he left it. His head was still ringing with those questions as he walked through the turbolift doors and on to the command deck of his vessel. It had been pointless after they returned to keep the regularly scheduled bridge crew off the bridge, so Archer had allowed them to return and resume their posts. Starfleet Intelligence be damned. He couldn't hide the fact they were in the belly of a massive alien ship forever from the entire crew.

 

“So, how is our special guest?” Malcolm asked.

 

Archer almost shot him a dirty look but caught himself and smiled. “Doing well, except he doesn't remember a thing about how he got here.”

 

“So, not a survivor then?” His tactical officer asked again.

 

“Not according to him, anyways.” Archer responded, not really wanting to go into more detail than that. He scratched the back of his head and plopping himself down in his captain's chair. “How are we doing on the scans?”

 

“Our scans of the vessel are nearly complete, but to be honest, it will take a team of technicians years to make sense of all of it in my opinion.” Malcolm responded. “I don't think our scanners can pick up half of what's actually there.”

 

“I don't doubt it.” Was Archer's response as he cast his eyes on the forward view screen.

 

Commander “Trip” Tucker had been monitoring the scans as well from his engineering station on the bridge near Malcolm's station. “I know I'm gonna have a hard time sorting through it.” He added. “This all looks a million years beyond me.”

 

“We just need to take as many pictures as we can to make Starfleet happy, Trip.” Archer told them. “I doubt they'd want us peeking too much at them anyway.”

 

“There is one thing the scans picked up which I thought you'd want to have a look at.” Malcolm told him.

 

“Oh?” Archer said, turning his chair around to face him.

 

“If these scans are correct, there's a certain piece of technology that's been installed on this vessel that wasn't standard equipment on the others we encountered, sir.” Malcolm told him.

 

His interest piqued, Archer got up from his chair and moved over to Malcolm's station to see what his Lieutenant Commander had found. In front of him on the screen were details and blueprints of several devices which he didn't recognize. Then Malcolm moved his fingers over the display to focus on a single chamber deep within the vessel. In it, Archer began to recognize a familiar looking set of pads placed in the floor and ceiling.

 

“Does that look familiar, sir?” Malcolm asked.

 

“Yeah, it kind of does.” Archer responded. “It looks an awful lot like a transporter pad to me. But you don't think it's the same one we left behind, do you?” He contemplated the possibility that this was the same Star Destroyer that they had encountered a year ago and had been forced to shoot their way out of.

 

“Not according to the scans we've taken. The materials are completely different, as is the configuration. It all corresponds to the same materials and technology as is found in the rest of the ship. Commander Tucker and I are fairly confident this is a native design and build. It didn't originate with us.”

 

“So, they took the technology we left behind and used it.” Archer concluded. “Just like Daniel said they would.” He added, remembering the “ascended being” they had also encountered on that mission. Of course, Daniel Jackson was hard person to forget. Thinking back to all Daniel had told him, he asked, “Any idea how far removed their transporter was from our own technology?”

 

Trip came over to where the other two men were looking at the screen. “I've been trying to figure that out myself, Cap'n. Maybe try and get a bit of perspective on how far back in time we actually went.”

 

“Any ideas, Trip?” Archer asked.

 

“Truth is, most of it still seems to be the same basic design, although from looking at the scans, I'd guess this one was capable of handling a lot more at once. It also looks like it was integrated more fully into this ship's systems. And there's more than one of them.” Trip said, moving his own fingers around Malcolm's display to where it now showed no less than twelve such chambers within the broken vessel. “If you look here at these two,” he said, bringing the display to focus on two of the chambers, “It looks like they were each designed to transport up to a hundred people at once. That's a massive landing party.”

 

“Or an invasion force.” Malcolm added.

 

“Well, this ship wasn't built for people to take vacations on.” Trip agreed, gesturing to the broken armored vehicles and weapons of war that now littered what had been the derelict ship's main hanger.

 

“Agreed.” Archer said. “So, what do you think, how long?”

 

“I'd guess maybe a couple hundred years of separation at most.” Trip told him. “But it is just a guess. Most people aren't likely to stray that quickly from a design that's been proven to work.”

 

“Two hundred years at most?” Archer asked, and then turned to face the view screen again as he did the rough math in his head. “They were ninety billion light years across the universe. How did they end up here only two hundred years later?”

 

“Maybe the same way we got there?” Malcolm offered.

 

“Maybe.” Archer conceded, but something in his gut told him that wasn't right either. One thing was for certain, the more questions they tried to answer, the more questions kept creeping up.

 

A light went off on Malcolm's tactical display and the scans disappeared to reveal what the ship's tactical sensors were picking up. “Captain, we may have a problem.”

 

“What now?” Archer asked.

 

“I'm picking up three Klingon battle cruisers entering the debris field.” His tactical officer told him.

 

“Any indication they know we're here?” Archer asked, instinctively knowing what the answer would be.

 

“They're headed straight for us, sir.” Malcolm replied. “If I was to make an educated guess I'd say they've picked up on our energy signature.”

 

“Damn.” Archer replied. “How long until they're in range?”

 

“Less than an hour. They have to navigate the debris field the same way we did.” Malcolm responded.

 

“Okay, we've got a few minutes then. How far are we on those scans?” He asked.

 

“We've got about eighty percent or so of what the sensors can pick up.” Trip responded.

 

“That's going to have to be enough. Release the docking clamps and get Travis back up here on the helm. Let's see if we can't clear out of here before they find anything of interest to them.” Archer told them.

 

* * *

 

Yoda had just finished his vegetarian soup and had set the bowl and spoon aside. It wasn't bad, and was spiced just right, almost logically. It reminded him of one of the last times he had cooked up a stew for himself and his last padawan learner… when was it? He couldn't remember exactly, though he knew it had been a very long time ago.

 

Much that he had known had been lost. He knew it would be. A mortal mind couldn't hold the vast wealth of knowledge an ascended being assimilated through the Force. And he had been one with the Force for a very long time.

 

He had not lied to Captain Archer. He did not remember how he had gotten on board the Star Destroyer. That was part of his trade off. He had to remember why he was here, now, not how he came to be here. For everything else, the Force would be his guide and ally as it had always been.

 

He leaned back on his bed and sought to meditate, and commune with the Force, reaching out to the life around him…

 

Tension, he felt. Unease, and some fear coming from the captain and those on the bridge. Why? He searched deeper, stretched out his awareness to encompass the surrounding space. He sensed three more crews. Alien to him. He might have known of them once upon a time, but now they were alien. Their intentions were violent and hostile. They were hunting… this ship.

 

Yoda's eyes came open and he looked around the sickbay. The doctor was busy checking readouts from a computer screen.

 

Quietly, Yoda pulled back the blanket which covered his legs and slipped off the bed drawing on the Force to keep as quiet as possible. Keeping one eye on the doctor, he gestured with his small, three clawed hand and the screen which the doctor had been studying flickered and then changed, much to the doctor's consternation as he began to scrutinize it far more intently.

 

Satisfied, Yoda quietly slipped out through the sliding doors of the sickbay and into the hallway.

 

Doctor Phlox never heard a thing.

 

* * *

 

As stealthily as possible, _Enterprise_ dropped out of the ancient hanger and back into the debris field.

 

“Let's put as much distance as we can between us and them.” Archer told his helmsman. “Head away from those battle cruisers lieutenant.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Travis responded, using the ship's thrusters to put the ship in a course directly away from their pursuers. Within minutes, however, collision indicators began to light up across his control panel.

 

“Sir, we appear to be heading into a heavier part of the debris field. I'm not sure I can navigate this safely and outrun them at the same time.” The helmsman told his captain.

 

“Just do the best you can, Travis.” Archer responded. His ship had withstood a ridiculous number of battles. But he knew it couldn't survive three Klingon battle cruisers that decided to “investigate.” He checked Malcolm's tactical display again. They were still about thirty minutes behind them at cruising speed, but not if they had to run on thrusters the whole way through.

 

The field of debris thickened even more as Travis wove in and out of the space garbage desperately trying to keep from ramming an ancient bulkhead or drifting fighter craft. Their progress slowed to a crawl.

 

“Time to intercept?” Archer asked again.

 

“Fifteen minutes and closing, sir. We'll be in their weapons range in less than that.” Malcolm responded.

 

“Polarize the hull plating.” Archer ordered. “All hands, battle stations.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

The three, raptor shaped predatory space vessels closed in on their prey. Unlike the small Earth vessel in their sites, they paid little heed to all but the largest of the wreckage as they plowed through the space garbage; the energy shields surrounding the battle cruisers allowing them to smash through the debris unimpeded. Their disruptors and photonic torpedoes cutting through what the shields could not stop.

 

Archer stood next to his captain's chair watching all this helpless as Malcolm gave him constant updates, wishing in vain that the new energy based shield upgrades for _Enterprise_ weren't scheduled for next month back in Earth's dry-dock. As it stood, Travis was doing his best, but unlike the Klingons, they couldn't take the chance of just bashing their way through everything (isn't that what Klingons always did?); not for another month, at least, if they survived today.

 

He felt a shudder run through the deck, one that felt all too familiar in his time as captain.

 

“Malcolm, Report!” He ordered.

 

“No damage to the hull sir. That was a piece of debris exploding behind us.” Malcolm told him.

 

“Well it was pretty damned close!” Archer retorted.

 

“Aye, sir. Klingons are nearly within weapons range, sir.” He said as professionally as he could maintain at the moment.

 

“Yeah, I gathered that.” Archer said, a little cooler.

 

It wasn't Malcolm's fault. It wasn't Travis's fault either. Archer could see him concentrating as hard as he could, his eyes not moving from the helm's navigational sensors. He was already pulling off some maneuvers which Archer wouldn't have dared try as an experienced test pilot.

 

“T'Pol, time till we clear the debris field?” Archer asked.

 

“At this speed, thirty eight minutes and twenty four seconds.” She responded from her station flatly.

 

Archer closed his eyes, running through every possible tactic in a debris or asteroid field he could think of. None of it would work. Even the ship's computer's couldn't plot a faster course through this. It was just too tightly packed together. He silently prayed to whatever benevolent deity might exist for a miracle.

 

“Some assistance I might be?” Came an aged, unassuming gravelly voice next to him.

 

Archer's eyes flew open and he looked in the direction of the voice but saw no one.

 

“What the…?” He exclaimed.

 

“Down here I am, Captain. In trouble your ship is. Of assistance I may be?” Came the voice again.

 

Archer's eyes shot towards the deck near his feet. There stood all two thirds of a meter of his doctor's new patient. A plethora of responses came to his mind, including calling ship's security, but he settled on the one which addressed the problem at hand, “How?” He asked.

 

“With your helmsman may I work, Captain?” Yoda asked with all gravity.

 

“Do it.” Archer told him. “We'll discuss how you got up here later.”

 

“Of course, Captain.” Yoda replied cheerily in sharp contrast to the circumstances.

 

The little green elf like being calmly moved to stand next to Travis, who still had his eyes on his controls and sensors. He didn't move those eyes as he said in a tense, almost irritated voice, “I'm kind of busy right now. Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly.”

 

Yoda studied Travis for less than a second, closing his eyes as he did so. Those over sized green eyes came open almost as quickly. “Only tell you so much ship's sensors and machines can. Deceive you your eyes can.”

 

“Okay, so how does that help me pilot this ship any faster through this mess?” Travis responded sharply, again not taking his eyes off the control panel.

 

Yoda reached out a three fingered hand and placed it on the right side of Travis's uniform. It felt unusually calm and reassuring to the helmsman in spite of the circumstances. Travis felt a rush of peace flood through his entire being.

 

“Let go of them you must, young one.” Yoda told him. “Your feelings you must stretch out and trust if any hope you will have.”

 

“What?” Travis's mind began to protest, but the rush of peace flowing through him agreed with the strange little alien's words.

 

“Guide you I can, padawan, but trust me you must.” Yoda insisted in his calm voice as yet another explosion, this one much closer, rocked the hull of the ship.

 

“I'll… I'll try.” Travis finally conceded.

 

“No. No try or try not. Do or do not. There is no try.” Yoda responded sharply.

 

“I...” Another part of him opened up at those words, and memories of feelings, good feelings came back to him. “I understand.” He said as comprehension began to light up his face. He _did_ understand.

 

“Yes, young one.” Yoda nodded knowingly.

 

“Malcolm?!” Archer yelled for information.

 

“Directly to the stern Captain! Hostile vessels are now within weapons range!” Malcolm responded.

 

“Arm all weapons! Prepare to return fire!” Archer called out.

 

“Your weapons, they will not be needed.” Yoda told the captain calmly, his eyes were now closed in almost a meditative state.

 

“What? Travis?!” Archer then turned to his helmsman.

 

Archer couldn't see it, but Travis had also closed his eyes as he followed the strange teacher's instructions. He couldn't explain it, but it just felt… right as he let go and reached out. It was like a whole new world opened up to him, one that felt familiar. It felt like coming home after being absent for a long, long time.

 

Immediately the _Enterprise_ lurched forward faster as the thrusters and the impulse engines began to work together in a complicated series of starts and stops, rolls and spins, and relative to its pursuers went into a dive through the debris. The ship wove in and out of the debris as though it were performing a graceful dance coming as close as mere meters from chunks of dead vessels which could easily obliterate the ship upon impact.

 

“Forward view screen!” Archer ordered, and then almost regretted it as he watched his ship from the inside perform maneuvers which, though he couldn't feel the inertia, began to give him vertigo. It was a similar feeling to the constant loop de loop and corkscrew roller coaster ride he had been on once at an amusement park near San Francisco. It was only his pride and the attentions of Becky Swinson which had been riding on it then, not the lives of a hundred and fifty people under his command.

 

The captain's face began to turn slightly green as he found his way back into his captain's chair and watched as his ship performed maneuvers he was certain it was never designed to make. He couldn't make out what course his helmsman was following, and then he felt another jolt rock his ship from behind, though from a further distance away.

 

“Malcolm, report!” He managed to order.

 

“Sir, two Klingon ships just exploded. I think they fired on each other!” His tactical officer responded.

 

“What? How?” Archer asked.

 

“Near as I can tell,” Malcolm's hands flew over his display trying to keep track of his own ship's ever changing position, “They were attempting to target us with torpedoes as we flew right in between them!” He said in disbelief.

 

“Their shields didn't protect them?” Archer asked, just as incredulously.

 

“According to my data, the last vessel's energy shields are severely depleted as it is, probably from all the debris they didn't try to avoid.” Came the lieutenant commander's response.

 

“What about the third?” The captain asked again, feeling far more hope for their survival than he had just a few minutes before.

 

“It's flying in an erratic pattern. I would guess it's trying to re-establish a weapons lock. Lieutenant Mayweather must be giving their captain fits.” Malcolm couldn't suppress a slight chuckle.

 

Then another tremor was felt through the hull, this one far more slight than the last. Malcolm didn't wait for the captain to ask. “The last ship collided with a large piece of debris and exploded, sir.”

 

“Travis, get us out of here as quickly as you can. Set course for friendly space, maximum warp.” Archer commanded.

 

The helmsman complied, but as though in a trance as the ship continued to twist and roll through the debris field, but making time as though it were moving through completely clear space. Within minutes, the captain could feel the familiar lurch as the _Enterprise_ jumped into warp.

 

Just after the ship entered warp, there came another familiar voice from the intercom. “Phlox to Captain Archer.”

 

“Go ahead, doctor.” Archer responded almost mechanically, his whole body exhausted from the adrenaline of the past half hour.

 

“You may want to notify security. I'm afraid my new patient has left sickbay without authorization.” Phlox reported with grave seriousness.

 

In front of him, the aforementioned escapee was calmly sitting in the lotus position next to his helmsman's seat, eyes closed as though nothing in the world could touch him. Archer almost wanted to laugh, or cry, but instead responded as calmly as he could manage, “Yes, doctor. I'll keep that under advisement.”

 

When Travis finally opened his eyes again, the _Enterprise_ was cruising through space at warp five point two. According to his instruments, the veteran vessel had been doing so without incident for the last fifteen minutes. The stranger thing was, it hadn't really surprised him. After all, he had been the one who had set their course, hadn't he?

 

It took him a few seconds to process what had happened, and his final verbal approximation as it all came to him was “whoa.” He had been in control the entire time, but it also felt like he had been cooperating with someone or something else guiding his actions as well as obeying his instructions. It had been a strange but fantastic partnership he had been privy to, and he sensed… no, he _knew_ it hadn't been the first time.

 

“Indeed.” Came the same aged voice, and Travis finally looked down towards the deck plating to see his diminutive “co-pilot” having opened his own eyes and risen from his seated position to stand next to him once again.

 

“What just happened?” He asked the small green alien in the tattered monk's robes. “What did you do to me?”

 

Yoda chuckled and said in a low voice. “Nothing to you did I do. Awakened to what was sleeping within, you were just now. A powerful ally is the Force; a great teacher and companion it can be.”

 

“Helmsman, report.” Came Travis's captain's voice, shaking him back to reality.

 

Travis quickly looked back at his instruments as though waking up out of a dream. “Yes, sir. We are cruising at warp five point two. Course is set for Tellarite controlled space. Estimated time of arrival, twelve hours, thirty three minutes present speed. Exit from borders of Klingon space in approximately thirty minutes.”

 

“Captain Archer to Commander Tucker.” Archer called out to the ship's intercom.

 

“Tucker here. Hey, Captain, how long are you going to burn my engines this hot for?” Came Trip's voice in an irritated southern accent.

 

“About another half an hour, Trip. Can we do that?” Archer asked.

 

“Uh, I'd rather not.” Trip responded. “Can we back it off to four point five?”

 

“How about four point eight and we'll call it even.” Archer replied.

 

“Yeah, we can manage that. Everything okay up there?” Commander Tucker asked.

 

“So far. I'll get back to you on that. Archer out.” The Captain then turned his attention back to his helmsman.

 

“Are you okay, Travis?” He asked, the concern for his crewman in his voice genuine.

 

Travis turned his chair around to face his captain, “Yeah, I think so. It was… I'm not sure how to describe it, sir.” He said, straining and failing to find words to put to his experience.

 

The captain then turned his attention to where their “guest” had been standing only to find the space empty. “Where…?” He asked and then stood up to look around for the small, old but not frail alien. He finally spotted him heading slowly but surely towards the turbolift.

 

“We need to talk.” He said, addressing Yoda.

 

“Rest I need. Old I am. To your doctor I will return.” He said, not turning around, sounding as old and frail as he appeared. “Appreciated a cane would be. Difficult walking this much is.”

 

Archer didn't buy any of his “old man” routine but, given what Yoda had just done for them, he held his tongue and smiled politely. “Later then. I'll send someone to 'assist' you back to sickbay.”

 

“Appreciated that is, Captain.” Yoda replied sincerely as a young, strong looking male crewman wearing the blue and red lined uniform of the ship's security officers came to stand next to him. The appearance was almost comical as the two meter security officer stood next to the diminutive figure.

 

“Lean on you, I may?” He asked the soldier humbly.

 

The soldier, slightly uncomfortably looked back towards the captain, who smirked and nodded his go ahead.

 

“Yes, sir. After you.” The security officer then replied.

 

Yoda then walked slowly and carefully into the turbolift door and it swished open with the security officer trailing behind. The last thing Archer saw before the lift door closed was the ancient alien standing next to his crewman, who was looking down at him with incredulity written all over his face.

 

“Are you certain one security officer will be enough, captain?” Malcolm asked.

 

Archer thought about it for a second before he answered, “Something tells me ten wouldn't be enough if he wanted to cause trouble, Malcolm. No, I think he'll do exactly what he said for now.”

 

“For now.” Malcolm repeated his captain's last words with some unease.

 

Turning back to Travis, Archer said, “Travis, back it off to warp four point eight. Maintain course towards Andoria, and then it's time I think we had a talk,” he then added after a second's hesitation, “in private.”


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

“Captain, according to all the scans sickbay's equipment is capable of making, his physical condition approximates that of a healthy human male in his mid to late nineties with all of the expected degeneration from age involved. Without knowing more about his species' physiology, I can't give you an exact age. But I can tell you that his apparent physical frailty is no facade. And with Commander Tucker's assistance, I have fashioned a cane at his request to assist his mobility. Frankly, by all natural physical standards, I can't see how he was able to escape sickbay without my notice, much less make it to the turbolift and up to the bridge. When I discovered him missing I was more concerned for his well-being than that of the ship's.” Doctor Phlox gave his report.

 

Archer had assembled his senior staff in the _Enterprise's_ briefing room, which had originally been extra storage space near the bridge until the last refit, to discuss their new guest, and what those on the bridge had witnessed. They all sat in metallic chairs around a functional metal table.

 

“According to the movie he was supposed to be close to nine hundred years old when he died, wasn't he?” Trip asked, bringing up another difficulty they were trying to wrap their minds around.

 

“As you know, it is possible, though unusual, for a Vulcan to live near the age of three hundred Earth years.” T'Pol added. “Simply because humans are short lived does not make it impossible for another species to live far longer. Furthermore, one cannot judge the apparent physical abilities of one species by the abilities of another.”

 

“Yeah,” Trip said, not trying to argue her point, “but what about the part where he was supposed to have died? If I remember right, didn't that Jedi Master we had on board, uh, Ben Skywalker I think it was; didn't he say that those movies were pretty damn accurate to his family's history? How the hell'd the director screw up a detail that big and get everything else right?”

 

“That does seem improbable, if not impossible.” T'Pol agreed.

 

Travis remained silent, still trying to process all that had happened. The captain had just had “the Talk” with him less than an hour before. It was “the Talk” he been wanting his captain to have with him for a while, and now, he didn't know what to think. Like his encounter with Yoda, it just felt right, and it explained a lot. But it flew in the face of everything he had accepted about himself and who he was. Heck, it flew in the face of everything he had accepted about the barriers between fantasy and reality.

 

“Where is our guest now?” Archer asked, sitting at the head of the conference table.

 

“Resting comfortably in sickbay, or at least that's what he appeared to be doing when I left. Crewman Phillips was standing guard inside sickbay at the time. I gave Yoda what should have been a sedative to help him sleep, so hopefully he'll still be doing that when I return.” Phlox responded.

 

“I will say, if the display this afternoon was any indication, if he had wanted to harm us, he could have done it at any time before now, and I'm not sure we could have done anything to stop him.” Malcolm said, his unease evident as he weighed in on the discussion.

 

“I don't get the sense from him that he intends any harm to us.” Archer replied. “But I agree with your assessment, Malcolm, and the way he was portrayed in the films bears that out.”

 

Travis continued to listen to the others, but he was distracted. His own feelings felt like they were running amok. How could he have just _forgotten_ all of it? He still didn't really remember anything of the frankly unbelievable things the captain told him he had done, although a lot of pieces began to fall into place for him. He understood now why they had all been tight lipped about it, and while he didn't blame his crew mates who had become like family to him, it had still hurt a little when he learned what they had been keeping from him.

 

After he had opened his eyes, and turned to look at his captain, Travis had seen “the look” etched into all of their faces again. Except this time it was like it had exploded a thousand times over. Even T'Pol, with all of her cool Vulcan professionalism couldn't hide the look of total disbelief on her face, even a little _awe_. What was worse was the look coming from crewman Phillips who was still new on board. For a trained security officer, he looked, well, _scared_ of him. Travis didn't want anyone to be scared of him.

 

There was one question which no one had yet asked about Yoda, and yet it seemed to be the one question which, for many reasons, kept being asked in his head; namely, _why was he here now?_ He must have looked deep in thought because the next minute he heard his captain ask, “What about you, Travis? Any thoughts on your recent 'co-pilot'?”

 

Travis looked up. His captain had tried to ask the question in a joking manner, but he now knew that his opinion, heck, his very feelings and instincts, would be given great weight by Captain Archer. The helmsman carefully tried to weigh what his own gut was telling him and how to express it in words.

 

“I guess the big question which keeps coming to my mind is 'why is he here?'” He finally answered.

 

“What do you mean? Are you saying our finding him in the derelict ship was intentional on his part?” Doctor Phlox asked.

 

“Well, I keep going over it in my mind, and it just doesn't add up that this was all an accident or a random coincidence. It's like we were meant to find him there. We were meant to thaw him out. And even the situation with the Klingons seemed like it was almost… I don't know.” Travis tried to sort out what was coming to his mind.

 

“You're not saying the Klingon attack was staged are you?” Archer asked.

 

“No, that's just it. I can't see how it could have been, but it feels like there's some kind of hand guiding all of this. And then there's what I experienced when he 'guided' me in piloting the ship through the debris field. It was like I was connected to something bigger than myself that was working with me.” He told them.

 

The others in the room, even T'Pol took on serious expression at this last thing he said, and Travis could feel the concern emanating from them.

 

“It just feels like he's here for a reason, and we need to find out what that reason is.” Travis continued. “The other thing is that I think that reason has to do with me. At least that's what it _felt_ like when he was working with me at the helm. He called me a 'padawan,' whatever that means.”

 

“If memory serves, a 'padawan' is someone who has been formally apprenticed to a Jedi Master to continue their training until such time as they complete their trials and are pronounced a Jedi Knight. Master Skywalker's apprentice Silva was called a padawan, and Lieutenant Mayweather was addressed as a padawan during his training in the temple on Coruscant.” T'Pol explained.

 

Archer digested this information carefully as T'Pol continued. Never discount a Vulcan's memory, he reminded himself. She could probably recall what she had for breakfast three weeks and ten years ago to the day.

 

“I took the liberty of doing more research in the ship's cultural database from Earth's early twenty first century. According to the films and media which were our original sources of information, Yoda was considered _the_ Jedi Grand Master. He was personally responsible for training nearly every Jedi Knight and Master for eight hundred years at various stages of their training as well as being the de facto head of the Jedi Religious Order. He was also the last Jedi Master to train the main protagonist in the series, Luke Skywalker who was responsible for restoring the Jedi Order after its near obliteration.”

 

“That was Master Skywalker's father, wasn't it?” Archer asked.

 

“Yes.” T'Pol continued. “Where Grand Master Yoda is concerned, Commander Tucker was correct. He was supposed to have died at the age of nine hundred years old and then to have become one with the Force, continuing to guide Luke Skywalker at times long after his death from beyond the grave.”

 

“One with the Force?” Archer asked, trying to recall all of his conversations concerning the Force with the Jedi Master he had come to know called Ben Skywalker. His mind was drawing a blank on the concept. “What does that mean, 'one with the Force'?”

 

T'Pol answered as though she had been prepared for the question. Of course she had, Archer thought to himself. It was only logical that the question would be asked.

 

“There is a great deal of media involved with the 'Star Wars' series. I did not have the time required to research all of it. However, from what Master Skywalker told us before, the Force is supposed to be an energy field created by all living things. If the media in the database are accurate to the philosophies of this Yoda's time period and history, then there were several philosophical schools among the Jedi regarding how the 'Force' was viewed. In one philosophy, the Force is seen as almost a kind of deity guiding one's destiny. In another, it was seen as something depending on one's feelings and instincts in order to act. Most Jedi appeared to have a blend of views based on their own individual experiences. Where the death of a Jedi was concerned, it had been believed that once a living creature, any living creature had died, the 'Living Force' within it returned to be absorbed and unified with the Cosmic Force in a kind of afterlife without any differentiation between individuals. It had been a Master Qui Gon Jinn who had first encountered beings who were able to train him to retain his identity and individuality after death. Later such beings were known as 'Force Ghosts'. Grand Jedi Master Yoda was the next Jedi Master to seek training in this ability at the urgency of Master Qui Gon Jinn after the death of the latter. Grand Master Yoda also apparently passed on the knowledge to a Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi. But there is no record of any Force Ghost being able or even desiring to return from this afterlife.” T'Pol finished her explanation.

 

At the mention of “Force Ghosts” Archer became more pensive as the memory of another “unique” individual he encountered in that galaxy far away came to his mind. It was an encounter about which he hadn't gone into detail with too many people.

 

“So, you're saying the person who is resting in sickbay is actually one of these 'ghosts'?” Archer finally asked.

 

“I sincerely doubt that captain. I suppose it's possible for my equipment to be deceived, but all of my equipment and training are telling me that this Yoda is a flesh and blood being just like the rest of us. Sickbay's lavatory would have something to say about it as well.” Doctor Phlox weighed in.

 

“There is also no record of any Force Ghost being able to either manifest in this way in the physical world, or be seen by anyone else but a Jedi or someone with a Jedi's training.” T'Pol confirmed for him.

 

“So, what then?” Trip asked. “We just happened to run across an alien that just happens to look, act, sound like, and be able to do the exact same things that this Jedi Grand Master could do? We all saw what he did with Travis and those Klingon ships.”

 

Travis remained silent. His feelings told him that somehow the little green alien was Grand Master Yoda himself. He didn't know how. Then something came to him, something someone told him… When? He didn't remember, and then he was surprised when he found himself saying the words out loud, “You never know when the Force will prompt you to take action, or what action you will be forced to take until it is called for.”

 

“What was that, Travis?” Trip asked.

 

“Something someone once told me. I don't remember when or who, but I can make a guess. He said that you never know when the Force would prompt you to act, or what action you would be forced to take until it was called for.” He told him.

 

“That sounds like something Jedi Master Skywalker would have said.” Archer said as he began to loosen up the year long restriction which had been imposed on his discussing that time openly. He finally allowed his own conversations with the extraordinary man and his apprentice to flow back into his own mind.

 

“I don't think it was him, but yeah. I know there's no record of it, but maybe somehow the Force prompted Grand Master Yoda to find a way to rejoin the living because there was no other way. You know, 'desperate times call for desperate measures', that kind of thing.” The lieutenant tried to reason it out.

 

“If that's the same Yoda in sickbay as the one in their history, he's got to have been one of these Force Ghosts for over three million years. What would have made him so desperate as to find a way to come back from the dead and go looking for you?” Trip asked. “There's got to be more to it than just him thinking you need to brush up on your Jedi skills, Travis.”

 

“Yeah.” Travis answered gravely, more concern settling over his face.

 

Archer spoke up again. He had a hunch he needed his science officer to explore. “T'Pol, I want you to do more research into Earth's cultural database. I want you to find every reference you can, no matter how obscure, to anything resembling these Force Ghosts, even if they're not called that. Something tells me George Lucas wasn't the only one to tell stories about them.”

 

* * *

 

Daniel smirked at the technician's colorfully worded frustration as the tenth EPS conduit he attempted to connect to the stargate fried when he tested it. He felt for the man, he really did. But then the ascended being reminded himself that once the device was brought online, the technician would be having a transporter “accident” arranged for him. And not only him, but everyone else working on restoring the base.

 

Daniel wasn't about to let that happen. He counted himself fortunate that the Others appeared to be turning a blind eye to the minor but significant technical glitches he was responsible for. He hadn't made himself known, or interfered in any way anyone could interpret as “divine intervention” per se, so maybe they didn't think he was breaking the rules; at least, not too much.

 

None of these people, good people most of them, knew anything about what the plans for this facility were. They were just doing their jobs and following orders, much like the Air Force personnel he had come to know so well during his time working and sometimes living in this facility.

 

Several floors above him was the hospital room in which he had first died and was reborn as an ascended being with the help of his mentor, Oma Desala. The gate room itself where he now found himself had been a part of his daily routine. He had spent so much time here that every detail of it had been burned into his memory before he ascended the last time. A memory of running training drills and tests in this underground base flashed through his mind as teams of young Air Force Academy graduates were convinced that the fate of the world rested on their shoulders and he was an evil alien bent on world domination. The looks on their faces when they discovered they were being punked and tested by the SGC's senior staff was always priceless.

 

Good times.

 

Good memories which were now being threatened by the shadow of a darkness so ancient it predated the existence of the current human race on Earth. Of course, that scenario wasn't new to him either. He just couldn't do anything about it directly like he once could. Not without severe consequences to himself, and possibly everyone else in the process.

 

From what he could tell, Yoda's mission was going well, even if Yoda himself was not doing well. He had chosen to return to mortality at almost the same stage of life he had left it. The equivalent of a frail old man on death's doorstep. Though Daniel would never have described the ancient Jedi Master as “frail” to anyone, he knew he didn't have much time left. He could also surmise as to why, even though Yoda could have returned a younger and healthier “man” in his prime. It was part of the trade off of his “interference” in mortal affairs. Would he be able to ascend again? Daniel was pretty sure of it. Would the Others allow it? That he wasn't so sure of, and the ascended being wished there was some way he could be.

 

When he became mortal, the Jedi Master's mind was opened to Daniel, and what a mind it was. Almost a thousand years of experiences from an extraordinary life lived which were even more incredible than George Lucas ever knew. And the wisdom he had acquired before he died put even the understanding many ascended beings had to shame. Daniel hoped the Others might learn from it. But he remembered very little of his time as an ascended being. Choosing to retain only the simplest information as to why he was there and who he needed to guide.

 

“Worry for me not, Daniel Jackson. One with the Force was I before my death. One with the Force was I after. No change for me there is. No change for me there will be this time either.”

 

Daniel read Yoda's thoughts loud and clear as he knew the Jedi Master was awake and meditating in the Force in the _Enterprise's_ sickbay. It shouldn't have surprised him that the little green ancient could monitor his thoughts through the Force as Daniel was checking up on him, but it did.

 

And Daniel smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

Captain's Log: June 30th, 2159

 

_We have now had our unusual guest on board for the better part of three or four days. Given that I'm not sure we could stop him anyways, I've permitted him freedom of movement, within reason, around the ship with an escort. Dr. Phlox has expressed concerns about the frailty which comes from his extreme age, but tells me that he is otherwise in perfect health._

 

_As difficult as it is to believe, and as many unanswered questions as there are about it, the other senior staff and I now feel confident this is the same Yoda described by the 'Star Wars' series of films, books, and other media in the same way that the universe and people within it that we encountered a year ago matched the people and society in that same series. He still recalls nothing about how he ended up on a derelict Star Destroyer for three and a half million years, but the other events of his life recorded in that media he has been able to recall in detail when asked, as well as demonstrate all the extraordinary abilities which that media describes him as being capable of. My own interactions with him have been friendly, and the other crewmen have reported the same as well as descriptions like wise, kind, compassionate, empathetic, funny, and nice. Several crew members appear to have become quite fond of him._

 

_For these past three days, his escort of choice has been our helmsman Lieutenant Mayweather, who has been reporting back to me with the details of their conversation after every walk Yoda takes around the ship. So far, he has only requested to see the mess hall and the ship's gymnasium. He appears to have no interest in the engine room, the bridge, or any other area of the ship I would consider sensitive for that matter._

 

_Under the circumstances of the sensitive nature of our mission, with the exception of notifying Starfleet of our current heading, I have had little choice but to mostly maintain radio silence and set course for Earth. I expect to be in Earth orbit in about a week and a half or so._

 

_I know S.I. wanted me to report on anything we found immediately, but something is telling me to hold off on it. I don't like disobeying orders, but my instincts are telling me something isn't right, and before I reveal the existence of our guest, or the details of our findings, I want to make sure they and he don't go into the wrong hands._

 

The ten kilogram weight in the gymnasium hovered precariously about a meter off the floor as Travis meditated on one hand and upside down, his eyes closed. Next to him, Yoda held his own eyes closed and Travis occasionally heard him mutter, “good, good. Remembering well your training you are.”

 

He had just come off duty and had gone to the mess hall for supper when he found Yoda there. The sage Jedi Master appeared to be calmly watching the stars race by them in streaks through the mess hall's windows. Somehow that “chance” encounter became another training session in the gymnasium with the relentless Jedi. It was the third in as many days, and Travis couldn't seem to catch a break, but Captain Archer wanted him to keep an eye on Yoda. So, here he was again.

 

It wasn't that he really minded the little guy. After his experience in the debris field, and the revelation from Captain Archer, he was finally able to put the piece back together, but the picture was still looking a little fuzzy, and Travis found that he wanted to remember. Yoda was really his only way to do that.

 

So far, it was a lot like finding muscle memory again. Everything Yoda was asking him to do felt like something that he had already done and came far more easily than he thought it should have.

 

He touched the Force and felt it flow through him again. As Yoda guided him through these sessions it became easier and easier to open his awareness up to encompass a wider and wider area around him and he was able to sense the Force and what it could tell him about more of the world than he had thought possible than just a few days before.

 

“Now, the one twice as heavy.” Yoda instructed him.

 

Travis reached out to feel for the twenty kilo weight. There it was on the rack, the Force told him. He reached out with what he wanted and could feel the energy of the Force responding and the weight slipped off of its rack and hovered next to the other one. It floated there for some time as Travis kept his focus on being aware of the currents of the Force around him.

 

“Doing some weight lifting, Travis?” Came a familiar southern drawl.

 

The two weights hit the floor with a crash as Travis' eyes came open and he fell, his body hitting the floor with a thud. “Ow! Man!”

 

“Ow. Uh… Sorry, Travis. Didn't mean to break your concentration or… or whatever that was.” Commander Tucker told him apologetically but with a smile. He was standing a couple of meters from where Travis fell, dressed in his own work-out clothes.

 

Yoda's eyes calmly came open and viewed the two men, the one standing and the one sitting on the matted floor rubbing his arm.

 

“What happened?” He asked Travis.

 

“I got distracted.” Travis responded, shooting Trip a dirty look.

 

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you supposed to have been aware of my being here?” Trip asked.

 

Yoda nodded, agreeing with the chief engineer. “Agree with him I do. Again my question, hmmm?”

 

“I thought the gym was empty.” Travis admitted. “I wasn't expecting anyone else.” As he really thought about it, he then added, “I mean I was hoping no one else would come in.”

 

“Paying attention, you were not.” Yoda chided him. “Listen to the Force you must, not your own desires.”

 

“What's wrong, Travis? Don't want an audience? Personally, I'm kind of interested to see what you boys are up to in here. I can't say I'm disappointed.” Trip told him in a cheerful kind of way as he leaned over to give Travis a hand up.

 

“I'm not really all that comfortable with that, to be honest. I really don't want the attention.” Travis told him. “Besides, I still don't really remember the details of my previous training. It's all just feelings. Like I have all these abilities, but I don't really know what they are or how to use them. It's all been instinct.”

 

“Yeah, what about that?” Trip asked, turning his head to look down at Yoda. “Shouldn't his amnesia about the whole thing be starting to clear up or something?”

 

Yoda leaned on his cane and looked down at his feet. “Blocked his memory is. Unlock it, I cannot.” He told them.

 

“But, if you can't restore my memory, than who can?” Travis asked him.

 

“Find an answer to this only you can, young padawan.” Yoda responded. “And find it you must if you are to prevent disaster.” His voice took on a gravity he had rarely displayed since coming on board.

 

“What kind of a disaster?” Travis asked, sensing that he was finally coming close as to why Yoda was here.

 

Yoda was silent for some time, and then looked up at him, studying the helmsman and then turning his attentions to the chief engineer. “Strong with the Force are you, Commander Tucker.”

 

Trip seemed a little off balance from that but recovered and said, “Thanks, I think. Dr. Phlox told me I had near Jedi levels of those little microbes in my cells when he scanned me.”

 

Yoda took this information, seeming unsurprised. “Yet trained as a Jedi, you were not?” He asked.

 

“No. I didn't need to be. And the other Jedi Master didn't think I was high enough to be concerned with it.” Trip responded.

 

“And yet Lieutenant Mayweather was chosen, hmmm? Why?” Yoda persisted.

 

“We needed someone on board who knew how to use the Force in order to get home.” Trip told him, wondering where he was going with this.

 

“Needed a Jedi was then.” Yoda said. “Force sensitive have been many, but ignorant. Continues the Force does, and the galaxy. No Jedi. No Sith. Just the Force. Not needed, the Jedi have been for a long, long time. Better it is. A great ally is the Force, but a great enemy it can be as well if abused.”

 

“Now, you're talking about the Sith, right?” Trip asked. “The ones that used the dark side.”

 

Yoda nodded.

 

Travis searched his own feelings on what Yoda was telling them. It didn't make sense unless… “You're afraid that another Sith lord is going to rise, aren't you? Someone today's learned how to use the dark side. And if there's a Sith rising...” Comprehension broke over Travis' awareness.

 

“The Force you must trust. Tell you everything you need to know when right the time is.” Yoda said, neither confirming nor denying Travis' assertion.

 

* * *

 

Lieutenant Hoshi Sato's face took on a puzzled look, and then it scrunched up into full confusion as she adjusted the controls of her communications panel. That can't be right, she thought to herself, as she replayed the signal she had just received. Nevertheless, there it was again, plain as day, repeating over and over again. She had to report it.

 

“Captain, I'm receiving a distress call. It's in English.” She told Archer from her station.

 

He had been sittting in his chair leaning forward, chin on his folded hands, elbows on his knees watching the forward view screen. Upon the news, he leaned back and turned the chair towards his communications officer.

 

“Oh?” He asked, concerned. “Who's it from?”

 

“I'm not sure. I've never heard of any of this.” She responded.

 

“Put it on.” He ordered.

 

The bridge went quiet as the mildly static laced transmission filled the air around them. “This is an S.O.S. to any Stargate Command vessels in the area. D.H.D. on this planet is dead. Surface of this world is desert and inhospitable. We are requesting immediate evacuation. I repeat, this is an S.O.S. to any Stargate Command vessels in the area. ...”

 

“That's it sir, it just keeps repeating on a loop.” Hoshi told him.

 

Archer scrunched up his face as he tried to make sense of it himself. He silently repeated the word “stargate” to himself. Why did it sound so familiar? He wondered. Out loud he asked, “Can we locate the source of the transmission?”

 

“The signal source is about half a light year off to port. It's originating from the second planet of a binary star system. The signal is weak, but clear.” She reported.

 

“Half a light year? We can make it there in a few hours.” Archer said.

 

“And what of our mission?” T'Pol reminded him. “We need to report to Starfleet Command.”

 

“It's only a few hours out of the way. It won't take long to check it out. At worst, it'll add an extra day if there's no one left to respond to. But someone in distress, especially if they're from Earth; that's part of our standing orders, too.” Archer told her.

 

“Aye, sir.” She responded.

 

“What is Stargate Command?” Hoshi asked. “I've never heard of it.”

 

Archer continued to think, “'Stargate' sounds familiar, but I can't place it either. If we can, we'll ask them what they meant when we get there.”

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, the _Enterprise_ went into orbit around a world that, from orbit, reminded Archer of T'Pol's home world of Vulcan. It was barely habitable, and according to the ship's sensors there were parts of it around the equator that easily reached seventy degrees centigrade during the daytime. Fortunately the distress signal wasn't coming from near there, but from somewhere in the northern hemisphere where it was a relatively cool forty five degrees during what he was told was this world's winter. A landing party would have to be pretty desperate to go down there unless they didn't have a choice.

 

There was no ship in orbit, and no wreckage of one either in orbit or on the planet as far as they could tell. However the senders of the message had gotten here, their ride was long gone.

 

“I'm reading four bio signs coming from the northern hemisphere near the polar cap, Captain.” T'Pol reported from her science station. “All human.”

 

“No one else? No indigenous life forms?” He asked her, though judging from what he was seeing, not entirely surprised.

 

“No, sir. There appear to be large tracts of structures arranged in patterns like cities and settlements, but I'm not reading any other life forms. Not even microbial life. This world is sterile.”

 

What would cause that? He wondered. He knew of several possible answers, none of them pleasing to think about.

 

“Can we get a lock on them with a transporter, beam them directly to the ship?” He asked hopefully. He didn't want to put any of his own crew into harm's way if he didn't want to.

 

“I believe so.” T'Pol confirmed.

 

“Archer to Commander Tucker.” The Captain then called out to the internal communications.

 

“Tucker here. What'cha need, Cap'n?” Trip responded.

 

“I need you to get down to the transporter. There are human survivors down on the surface of the planet that need to be evacuated now.” Archer told him.

 

“Will do.” Trip responded. “Tucker out.”

 

“Archer to Phlox.” He called out.

 

“Phlox here.” Came his ship's doctor's voice.

 

“Get down to the transporter room, doctor. We may be bringing people on board with severe heat injuries.” Archer told him.

 

“Understood. I'm on my way.” Phlox told him.

 

“I'll be down at the transporter receiving our new guests. T'Pol, you have the bridge.” Archer told her.

 

“Aye, sir.” T'Pol responded.

 

* * *

 

The transporter surged with blue light and four humans in black tactical suits materialized on the transporter pad as Archer, Commander Tucker, Dr. Phlox, and two armed MACOs watched. All four were seated and drenched in sweat as Phlox went to work immediately analyzing their vital signs with his medical scanner.

 

“Thanks.” One of them said with obvious exhaustion. “We were getting pretty well cooked down there.”

 

The speaker was a man in his mid thirties with short dark brown hair and light cocoa skin. He had about a day's worth of beard stubble, but was otherwise clean shaven. He might have come from somewhere in the Caribbean or South America, Archer thought to himself, except that he spoke English with an accent that suggested somewhere near San Francisco.

 

“Don't mention it.” Archer responded. “We got your distress call. How did you end up on such a god-forsaken world as that?”

 

“We came through the stargate expecting it to be a lot more hospitable than it was.” The man responded again, this time throwing something of a dirty look to the diminutive blond woman next to him on the transporter pad.

 

“Don't look at me. The Ancient database said that it should have been fully habitable.” The woman responded defensively.

 

Returning to Archer, he continued, “When we realized the mistake we'd made we tried to dial home but the D.H.D. was dead and nothing we did worked. We even tried dialing the gate manually, but it was locked somehow from this side. You don't know how glad we are to see you… uh...” He said, first looking at Archer, and then he saw the face of the doctor attending him. “Where did you say you were from again?”

 

“You're on board the United Earth Star Ship _Enterprise_. We were on course to return to Earth when we received your S.O.S.” Archer responded. “Jonathan Archer, Captain of this ship.” He added after a pause.

 

“Colonel Ronan Shepherd.” The newcomer replied. He then asked, “United Earth?”

 

The newcomer looked at Archer again, this time studying his uniform, and then he turned his gaze to look at all of their rescuers. He then turned to look at his companions with a strange expression of confusion on his face.

 

“Not Stargate Command?” The woman asked, also seeming confused.

 

“I'm sorry I'm not familiar with that organization. Your distress call mentioned it too. Our command structure is Starfleet Command based in San Francisco on Earth. Truth is, I know I've heard the term before, but I've been trying to remember where.” Archer told them.

 

Phlox stepped back from his patients and reported. “They're very lucky captain. They have a few nasty sunburns, dehydration, and heat exhaustion, but are otherwise healthy. I'm not sure they would have been in such good condition had we not arrived when we did. Nevertheless, I'd like to take them to sickbay for some treatment, with your permission.”

 

“Wait, you are from Earth, though, right?” Colonel Shepherd asked again.

 

“Most of us on board, yes.” Archer replied.

 

“American? From the United States?” He questioned further.

 

“I'm from upstate New York, if that's what you mean.” Archer replied. “But there hasn't been a formal 'United States' government in power for almost a hundred years.”

 

“I'm from Florida if that helps.” Trip chimed in.

 

Colonel Shepherd took a minute to process the information he'd just been given. He then said, “Then Captain, I think you're the closest thing to just the man we were sent to find.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

“Atlantis Colony's last communication with Stargate Command was in the year twenty forty four. A third world war had broken out and no one was pulling any punches. That was when the base had been completely evacuated. The last report our great grandparents had from those coming through the gate was that a nuclear warhead was on its way.” Colonel Shepherd told those in sickbay listening to his story. “They tried to dial the gate again hundreds of times after that, but couldn't ever get a lock.”

 

The team of four that had been rescued had been taken to sickbay where Doctor Phlox tended to their relatively minor injuries. Archer had dismissed the MACOs, but brought Trip along, still in his gym clothes. He had left Yoda and Travis in the gymnasium when Archer had called him up to the transporter.

 

“You keep talking about this 'stargate' thing. What is it?” Trip asked.

 

“You don't know what a stargate is?” The blond woman asked with a hint of sarcasm. “You're in a ship flying through hyperspace. How do you think you came by that technology?”

 

“A man named Zephram Cochrane who invented warp drive over a hundred years ago,” Archer answered without hesitation, “and my father who continued his research. And for the record, we're not flying through hyperspace...”

 

Archer then snapped his fingers and turned towards Commander Tucker. “That's where I've heard the name before. I remember now. The 'stargate program,' Trip; it's where the plans for the hyperspace engines we tested came from. It was run by the old United States Air Force around the turn of the twenty first century.” He then turned back to Colonel Shepherd, “That's what you've been talking about; the old Stargate program. The one… What was her name? Doctor… Samantha Carter. The one she was a part of? Right?”

 

“You know what? You're right Cap'n. I remember now. You'd think that was something I wouldn't ever forget considering; especially now. But I still don't understand what this 'stargate' thing is.” Trip said.

 

The four newcomers listened to the exchange trying to gauge what page their rescuers were on and how much more to say. Then the blond woman spoke up again. “It's the big metal ring that sat in Stargate Command. You know, covered over with thirty nine symbols that represent star constellations in the Milky Way. You dial it up and it connects a wormhole to another gate in the network that you can travel through? Any of this ringing a bell? No?” She said, gesturing with her hands, looking back and forth between both men in frustration. “How can you know about the Stargate Program and not know about the Stargate?”

 

“Wormhole travel?” Archer repeated to himself, and then another light went on in his head and he said out loud almost more to himself “Daniel,” as some of the pieces began to fall into place.

 

“Who?” Trip asked.

 

“Someone else I met on that mission a year ago. He told me, albeit very briefly, about the stargate. It was the reason why we had to leave our transporter behind.” Archer responded to him. “The stargate he talked about used transporter technology to break down a person into a signal that could be transmitted through the wormhole.”

 

“Wow. I think I get it now.” Trip said, all the implications of such a device running through his head. He then asked the blond woman, “And you said there's supposed to be a network of these gates in the Milky Way? But wait, if there is, then why haven't we run into them before?”

 

“Good question.” Archer said, turning to Shepherd.

 

“I don't know.” Shepherd told him. “From what we were told, most of the inhabited planets in the Milky Way had them.” He then glanced back at the doctor. “But then we understood that most if not all of the worlds here were inhabited by humans, brought from Earth.”

 

The blond woman had been listening back and forth to this exchange, a calculating look on her face. She then asked, “Captain, about how far from Earth are we?”

 

“About fifteen light years or so, about a week and a half at warp four. Why?” Archer asked.

 

“That would explain it then.” She said, though she had explained nothing.

 

“What would explain what?” Trip asked, confused.

 

“Most of the stargates that we know of in the Milky Way are scattered all over the galaxy. I can't think of any this close except for the one we just came through. You shouldn't even be able to see the stars where most of them are located from Earth, and this ship apparently isn't fast enough to reach most of those worlds in our lifetimes.” She said matter of factly. “The truth is, too much closer to Earth, and another stargate might interfere with the operation of Earth's stargate.”

 

“So you're saying the reason why we haven't run into them before is because most of them are too far away for us to reach with warp drive?” Archer asked.

 

“That's exactly what I'm saying, Captain.” She replied.

 

“Exactly how many of these stargates are in this network you're talking about?” Trip asked.

 

“From just the addresses we had in our database, upwards of two to three million.” She responded. “But most of them were marked as no longer viable for one reason or another. This one was supposed to still be viable, and it was the closest we could get to Earth.”

 

“So what was your plan? Get as close to Earth as you could, try to get a hold of someone, and if not just dial home?” Archer asked.

 

“Something like that.” Shepherd responded. “It had been over a hundred years since anyone from Atlantis Colony had made contact with Stargate Command or anyone from Earth, and none of our allies left here in the Milky Way had either. We figured after a hundred years we should try and find out what happened. We couldn't send a ship because they're all occupied. We knew it was a long shot, but figured we needed to know if Earth was even still there.”

 

“Well, I can tell you it's definitely still there.” Archer said with a smile. “You can see for yourselves in a little over a week, once we get underway again.”

 

“Captain, we need to make contact with Atlantis somehow and let them know we're okay first, and we can't wait a week to do it. It's already been over six hours since they dialed it up and we last checked in and they're probably thinking we're toast by now, literally. If they don't hear from us soon back on Lantea, they might try and send another team through to try and retrieve us.” Shepherd told him, worry evident in his voice. “We still don't leave our people behind.”

 

“Right.” Archer said. “I'll have my communications officer work with you on that.” He said.

 

“Oh, it's not going to be that simple.” The blond woman spoke up again, almost smirking, though Archer couldn't understand what was so funny.

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name.” Archer asked.

 

“Doctor Jennifer McKay,” She said, putting the emphasis on the word “doctor.”

 

“Dr. McKay then. Why isn't it going to be that simple, doctor?” Archer asked.

 

“I'm pretty sure Atlantis is a little farther away than your equipment will be able to reach.” She said.

 

“What do you mean?” He asked.

 

“I don't know. Subspace communications can go awfully fast.” Trip added.

 

“Can it reach the Pegasus galaxy this month?” She asked.

 

“Pegasus?” Trip repeated in disbelief. “Your ancestors all evacuated to Pegasus? How in the world…?” He then stopped and answered his own question, “Hyperspace travel. You folks can use it, can't you? And those stargates you're talking about. They can cross galaxies, can't they?”

 

“With enough power, yes to both.” She responded.

 

“So the only way you can call home without risking them sending someone else through to get trapped…” Archer began to say, and the blond woman finished for him, the smirk replaced by an all business seriousness, “is by finding a way to dial the stargate on the planet below us, yes.”

 

* * *

 

Travis was exhausted. He never thought he could get so tired in his life, but the little green Jedi Master seemed to keep trying to push him farther and farther beyond anything he had thought he was actually capable of. His muscles ached from the strains they had been under, but even more he felt emotionally and mentally exhausted as his concentration and ability to focus were stretched as Yoda demanded he tap into more and more of the Force to accomplish the tasks he gave him.

 

Finally, after almost eight hours of this non-stop, Yoda relented.

 

“Enough for now. No more have I to teach you today.” He said, and it sounded like the sweetest words he had ever heard in his life. “Rest, we both need.”

 

“Right. Yes. Rest is good.” Travis said as he came down from yet another Force influenced handstand that was more like a one finger stand while trying to levitate hundred pound weights and keep his instructor balanced on his foot; all at the same time.

 

“Man, did you train all of your apprentices this way?” Travis asked him, sitting down on the floor for a minute to recover enough before he retreated to his quarters for the night. That is, after he reported to the captain.

 

“Some.” Yoda responded. “More intensive instruction others needed. No one exactly the same.” Yoda then took his tiny cane and pointed with it at Travis's forehead. “Already within you all you need to know. Remember you will when the time is right. Helping remind you of what you already know I am. That is all.”

 

Travis then felt pity for his former apprentices who didn't already have their training locked in their heads.

 

“Can the Force help me to recover those memories?” Travis asked.

 

Yoda thought for a minute, and then answered. “Help you it can, if accept it you do.”

 

“I don't understand. How have I not been accepting it?” Travis asked, confused. He had just finished eight hours of accepting the Force and allowing it to flow through him at Yoda's direction.

 

“Answer that question, I cannot. This answer only you possess.” Yoda replied cryptically.

 

Travis stared off into space trying to understand what Yoda was trying to say. After a few minutes, Yoda interrupted his thoughts.

 

“Fascinating, the ship's bulkhead is?” He asked, looking in the same direction Travis had been.

 

“I'm sorry.” Travis said, shaking himself out of his own head. He rose to his feet and said, “let me help you back to sickbay.”

 

Yoda closed his eyes, drew in a breath and then exhaled calmly and said, “Occupied your sickbay is. New refugees your captain has taken on board, besides myself. A new place to stay for tonight I may need.” He told him without further explanation.

 

“What? Oh. Uh… Well, there's an extra bunk in my quarters I guess if it's okay with the captain.” Travis offered offhand without actually considering what he was saying.

 

“My thanks. Approach your captain, we will.” Yoda said.

 

* * *

 

“So, you're telling me this whole city of Atlantis you were born and raised in is actually a giant starship, and it was originally built on Earth by an ancient race of human beings over a million years ago?” Trip asked, trying to come to grips with the new understanding of the world the blond scientist was revealing to him and finding his grip slipping just a bit.

 

The captain had assigned him and T'Pol to work with Dr. McKay to figure out why the stargate was locked. The conversation which grew out of the discussion of the ancient technology which powered the stargate and its dialing device proved to be anything but boring.

 

“In a manner of speaking,” McKay responded. “The Ancients were the first evolution of human beings, but they weren't originally from Earth. The truth is that we're still not exactly sure where in the universe they came from. There's no mention of their point of origin in Atlantis' database. Maybe they themselves forgot where they came from over the millions of years of their civilization's existence.” She speculated.

 

“What happened to them?” T'Pol asked. “It is illogical that a society that highly advanced would just disappear.”

 

“That's a long story. There was a plague in the Milky Way a million years ago, and the few that survived left Earth and headed for Pegasus with Atlantis. Then, ten thousand years ago, they came under attack from another hostile alien race called the wraith and were forced to abandon the city and return to Earth through the stargate where those that could learned to shed their physical form and ascend to a higher plane of existence.” McKay said as she used the tablet computer from her backpack to pull up some schematics. “A very few of them were able to return to human form later on; some as recently as a thousand years ago.”

 

T'Pol then paused as though trying to confirm that she had just heard correctly. She gave Commander Tucker a knowing look, and he returned it.

 

He asked the scientist, “So, this whole ascending thing didn't have to be permanent?”

 

“Not if they didn't want it to be. One of my great grandfather's colleagues ascended after he died from radiation poisoning, only to return to mortal form a year later.” She said, almost non-chalantly as though it was an every day occurrence. “Colonel Shepherd thinks his great grandfather John was helped to ascend before he died too, but no one knows for certain except that his body disappeared. There's a story in his family that John Shepherd fell in love with an ascended woman once, and when he was close to death, she brought him to be with her.”

 

“Why would someone need help to ascend?” T'Pol asked without emotion.

 

“The ancients could do it on their own because of their evolved brain. They also spent most of their lives meditating in preparation for it. But us regular folks can't do it on our own unless another ascended being helps them.” She explained. “Alright, here are all of the schematics I have on the stargate and the D.H.D. I've never seen any stargate with any kind of a locking mechanism on it before that would prevent it from dialing.” She said, changing the subject to the matter at hand.

 

Trip began working his way through the schematics and shook his head. “Can't say I've ever seen engineering like this before. What about you T'Pol?”

 

T'Pol studied it for some time. She then observed, “The technology appears to be based on crystalline lattice storage and information transfer.”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Came Dr. McKay's response. “All of the Ancients' tech was based on it by the time Atlantis left Earth for Pegasus a million years ago.”

 

“Opening up a wormhole has to take a massive amount of power, not to mention the transporter part of the mechanism. Where's the power source?” Trip asked.

 

“It actually doesn't take as much power as you might think. The stargate acts like a big capacitor, absorbing energy directly.” She explained. “You can apply a direct electrical charge to power it, heat energy. I've even heard of stargates being powered by a lightning strike or the energy from a black hole. On most stargates though, the regular power source is located in the D.H.D. and transferred wirelessly to the gate.”

 

“You said you've never seen a stargate locked like this before, correct?” T'Pol asked.

 

“Correct.” Dr. McKay responded. “Usually, if someone didn't want someone else using the stargate to leave, they'd just take the D.H.D. That way people could come through the stargate from another location, but not leave back through it.”

 

“Do you have any information on this particular world, and the site where the stargate is located?” T'Pol asked.

 

“Not really.” She admitted. “It was listed in the database as some kind of training outpost for a religious order around the time Atlantis left Earth, but there was no more description than that. Why, what are you thinking?”

 

“If locking the stargate in this way is an extraordinary occurrence, then perhaps it has something to do with the function of the site where it is located. Perhaps it is locked in such a way so that only an authorized person may use it.” T'Pol responded.

 

“Like a member of the aforementioned religious order?” Trip followed with her.

 

“It is logical.” T'Pol answered.

 

“But then why would they allow just anyone to come through?” Dr. McKay asked, confused. “Why not put a shield over the gate as well to prevent it?”

 

“What would putting a shield over the gate do?” Trip asked.

 

“It would keep people from materializing on this end.” After a minute, she then explained further, “it would kill them.”

 

“You said it was some kind of a monastery or something for a religious order, right?” Trip asked. He then continued before she could answer, “Maybe it was against their beliefs to put something up that might kill an innocent person. Maybe they weren't as concerned about people coming in as they were about people leaving before they were ready to face whatever it was they were training to face.”

 

“That's all well and good, but usually when the Ancients wanted to lock someone out of a piece of tech they would encode it so that only someone with Ancient D.N.A. could use it. We call it the A.T.A. gene. Both Colonel Shepherd and I already have it.”

 

“Perhaps these 'Ancients' as you call them weren't as concerned about the species which used this stargate as they were about the level of training involved.” Trip responded.

 

Dr. McKay took a minute to process that. “Okay, but how does that help us unlock the gate so we can contact Atlantis? We would need someone who had this religious training to unlock it for us.”

 

“And you have no information as to who they were?” T'Pol asked.

 

“'Fraid not.” She responded. “It's not the first religious community set up by the Ancients that we've found not explained in the database.”

 

Trip studied the schematics more, trying to make sense of them. Trying to figure out an engineering puzzle always cleared his mind and helped him to think better, except he was sure this wasn't necessarily just an engineering puzzle. He set the tablet down after a few more minutes, and said, “I'll be right back.”

 

“Where are you going?” T'Pol asked.

 

“I've got a hunch 'bout this. I wanna go talk to our other new friend and see if he knows anything that can help us.” He told her, and then left them.

 

“Other new friend?” Dr. McKay asked, confused.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

The world was quiet as shuttlepod one touched down just outside of the sandstone carved settlement. It was serene and peaceful, as though nothing could, or did disturb it. Even the roar of the shuttlepod's engines failed to make an impression before Travis cut the power to them after touchdown. The shuttlepod's door opened, and the first thing the first person to disembark heard was the deafening sound of silence that only a deep desert can make.

 

Behind him a voice said, “Why would anyone in their right mind put a settlement here? This world looks as dead and sterile as they come.”

 

Yoda closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Dead this world seems on the surface, but life there is deep below. Strong here the Force remains.” He pronounced cryptically before opening his eyes again, and slowly exiting the space vehicle, with each step his cane slowly and methodically tapping the stony ground the pod had landed on.

 

“I don't get it,” Trip said, following right behind him. “With no vegetation, how is there even breathable atmosphere here? What's producing the oxygen?” He wiped sweat from his forehead with his tan desert uniform's sleeve. He was immensely grateful for the heat dissipation technology built into it.

 

The heat was dry, not humid like his home in Florida, but it was intense all the same. It reminded him of the desert world, Torotha, he and his captain visited their first year into _Enterprise's_ primary mission. Forty one degrees and he had described it as “hotter 'n hell.” Torotha had nothing on this nameless world. Trip looked up at the sky to see one sun almost directly overhead, and another, smaller sun down towards the horizon in the distance. “Just because one sun beatin' down on you just isn't enough.” He said under his breath.

 

“I guess we can add that to our list of mysteries about this planet.” Colonel Shepherd said in response to Trip's more vocal question as he followed behind him, eying the diminutive green Jedi Master curiously that was now standing three meters from the pod and appearing to be listening for something.

 

Shepherd took a look around, trying to orient himself as to his directions. To their north was a ridge of desert mountains which the settlement backed itself up against. To their south was what appeared to be open dunes. They had landed on the eastern side of the settlement.

 

“The stargate's that way, on the other side of the settlement. That's where we left our gear when you beamed us up.” He said, pointing west towards the collection of single story structures which Trip thought resembled pictures of ancient towns or villages from Earth's Middle Eastern regions in the eastern hemisphere.

 

“You sure this was supposed to have been built by a technologically advanced race? Something tells me these folks wouldn't know the difference between a wormhole and a bathtub drain.” Trip remarked.

 

“Most of their settlements were like this,” Shepherd responded, explaining, “especially the religiously oriented ones where regular humans might find themselves for one reason or another. We think it's because of their most basic principle of non-interference. They didn't want to interfere with the natural development of a population, even those they planted. Most of the technology was concentrated in research and development cities like Atlantis, or research outposts.”

 

“Never goes well to give the very young too much power.” Yoda observed, not changing his stance. “Not do as they are told they will. Harm themselves too often they will.”

 

Travis finally exited the vehicle after making all of his post-flight checks. The effect of how hot this world was on the pod was a concern to him. He didn't want to come back and find all of the pod's circuits melted, but he figured it should be okay for a few hours anyways, and Commander Tucker was with them just in case.

 

“So, which way do we go?” Travis asked.

 

Shepherd pointed west with his whole hand, and said, “That way.”

 

The four then began walking towards the remains of the settlement, but it became apparent right away that they would have to move much more slowly than the three men could have as Yoda moved as fast as his very short stride and aged body would allow him.

 

“Uh, Travis, why don't the Colonel and I scout ahead a little. You two can meet up with us at the stargate.” Commander Tucker told him, trying to be politic about it.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Travis answered knowingly.

 

As the two other men moved off, Yoda asked, “In a hurry they are? Going nowhere the stargate is.”

 

“I think Commander Tucker just wants to get out of here as soon as he can. The desert doesn't exactly agree with him. I think it's the heat.” Travis answered.

 

“Serene the desert is.” Yoda replied as he stopped and leaned on his cane. “Allows one to focus and meditate free from distraction it does. Good place for training Jedi it is.”

 

Travis stopped next to him and began to get a sinking feeling as soon as the Jedi Master said it. “Master, I don't think we're going to have time for...”

 

Yoda began to chuckle. “No, not you and I. Correct you are that time we do not have. But in time past… Perhaps a short lesson we do have time for. Open yourself up and feel them you will as well.” He told him.

 

“But what about Commander Tucker and Colonel…?” Travis began to protest.

 

“Not long will this take, and answer some questions about this place it will for you… And perhaps for them as well.” Yoda told him.

 

Travis looked towards the direction that Commander Tucker and Colonel Shepherd had gone, but they were already out of sight behind some small buildings. Defeated, he closed his eyes and relaxed, opening himself up and stretching out his awareness to the settlement around him.

 

At first, nothing would come to him. And then, little by little he could feel traces of feelings flowing through the Force. They were like faint imprints of people long past. Funny thing was, they didn't feel like just memories of feelings (and how he knew that he couldn't say), but like living beings that were here and yet not. It was weird.

 

“I can feel… people here. Sort of like feelings or memories but more than that. I'm not sure how to explain it.” Travis told him, his eyes still closed as he tried to focus more.

 

“One with the Cosmic Force they have become.” Yoda said, nodding. “More there is to see.” He encouraged.

 

Travis reached out to the imprints. He felt men and women. They were calm, peaceful as though meditating. They felt detached from things, but not cold. The Force… The Force was strong with them. He said as much to Yoda.

 

“Yes. Strong with them it was,” Yoda replied, and then added “and is.”

 

“They were Jedi?” Travis asked as he opened his eyes.

 

“Yes, and no.” Yoda responded. “Strong with the Force they were, but Jedi they were not. Seeking union with the Cosmic Force beyond death they were. Understand now the stargate lock do you?”

 

Travis shook his head slowly, “Not really, why would someone come here without a way back unless...” Realization dawned on him. “They were coming here to die, weren't they?”

 

“Coming to ascend, Ronan Shepherd might say.” Yoda countered. “After that, all paths open to them were.”

 

“So, you're saying they're still here?” Travis asked, a little creeped out at the thought of ghosts haunting the settlement.

 

It must have been evident in his voice, because Yoda chuckled again, “Afraid of ghosts are you, hmmm? Join them you will soon enough, one way or the other, as all must.” His tone then became more serious. “The way of things this is, the way of the Force. Fear them do not. Mourn for them do not. From the Force we come, to the Force we go. One with the Force we remain, ignorant of this though one may be.”

 

Travis felt struck by the profoundness of the thought as he continued to feel the “ghosts” around him. “Wow.” He said. “I've never thought of it that way before.”

 

“Mmm. Come, await us the others do. Use the stargate without us they will not.” Yoda told him as he started walking again, almost twice as fast as he had before.

 

* * *

 

The hot air continued to circulate around Trip and Shepherd as Trip inspected the D.H.D. and the stargate. He had to admit, it was an impressively elegant and simplistic design.

 

The stargate and it's operating device were set on a stone platform carved from bedrock about twenty or thirty meters away from the nearest of the settlement's structures. Whoever had set it up was looking to give it as much space as they could, it looked like to the starship engineer.

 

The stargate itself was a metal loop about seven meters in diameter which was positioned at a ninety degree angle from the ground within a stone groove or stand. A set of sandstone steps led up to it, though he could see that those who placed it here took pains that they didn't overlap or obstruct the open ring. Upon closer inspection he could see it was actually one ring set into another, obviously meant to be spun like a dial. The inner ring was covered in the symbol glyphs that Dr. McKay had told him were representations of star constellations used as coordinate markers, and these symbols corresponded to buttons on the D.H.D. The outer ring had seven large, red crystal chevrons set equidistantly from one another around the face of the gate and pointing inward, with the center top one having a section cut out to expose the symbol directly underneath it. According to Dr. McKay, all someone should have to do is enter the six destination coordinates and the point of origin coordinate and away you went. But this one wasn't cooperating at all.

 

Trip wiped the sweat from his forehead for the tenth time in about as many minutes as he checked all of the sassy blond scientist's connections and specs. What breeze there was didn't help at all.

 

“Now I wish Phlox had cleared that scientist of yours to come down here with us again.” Trip told Shepherd. “I'm playing who knows how many millennia of catch up learning on this thing.”

 

“Me too, although she went over it with a fine tooth comb already.” Shepherd responded. “If she could have solved the problem herself, she would have by now.” He told him as he kept looking back the way they had come. “Speaking of which, how long do you think it will take your friends to get here?”

 

“They should be catching up. The shorter one's not much of a spring chicken anymore as I understand it, but he should be fine.” Trip said, checking the connection between the power source the strangers had brought with them and the stargate. Everything looked alright as far as he could tell. It was actually pretty straightforward as far as power transfer connections were concerned, and, except for the power unit itself, looked like it was based on Earth's old electrical power systems before plasma transfer came into wide use.

 

“Yeah, about that,” Shepherd asked, “is it just me or does he look a lot like a character from an old movie I saw a while back?”

 

Trip stopped, grinned a bit, and said, “You know, we've run across so many different species on our missions, I hadn't really thought about it. But yeah, I guess he does, doesn't he?” Better that than go into it with a total stranger he thought to himself.

 

He continued, “But I do know he's been part of a religious order that sounded a lot like the kind of thing you folks were describing, and he's been kind of taking Travis under his wing a little. Teaching him some techniques or something to help him focus. Y'know, be a better pilot and all that.” It wasn't a complete lie, Trip told himself. It just wasn't entirely the truth. Trip wasn't sure Ronan Shepherd could handle the whole truth anyway, even if it wasn't about as classified as it got.

 

“You into classical science fiction, Colonel?” Trip asked, somewhat changing the subject.

 

“A little. We've got a pretty good library of old Earth movies and media that Atlantis brought from Earth when it left the last time. A lot of it seems pretty far fetched.” He replied. Then he stopped and looked off into the distance again, and then looked back at Trip. “Then again, some of it didn't seem to go nearly far enough, did it? At least not from my experience.”

 

“Boy, ain't that the truth.” Trip agreed. “Okay,” he said getting back to the business at hand, “I've been over this thing with the specs Dr. McKay gave me, and I'm not seeing any reason why this thing shouldn't be doing what it was designed to do. I'm not even seeing any kind of a physical obstruction in the ring itself. Just so I can see what it's doing, I'm going to give it a try.”

 

Shepherd gestured towards the D.H.D., “Be my guest.” He said. “Oh, and by the way, my friends call me Ronan.”

 

“My friends call me Trip.” Trip responded. “I'm only 'Commander Tucker' when someone has to be official, and to the dignitaries and rookie crew members.” He said, giving another grin.

 

Trip then went over to the D.H.D., and Colonel Shepherd backed away from the stargate instinctively. Trip took note he was careful to avoid the area directly in front of the gate. “Don't like to stand in front of it, eh Ronan?”

 

“Turn it on and you'll find out why.” Shepherd quipped.

 

“So noted.” Trip replied, and then he entered the eight symbols the Atlantis team's scientist had given him. The seven every address required, Dr. McKay had explained, plus one more because it was going to another galaxy. “Kind of like an area code on Earth's old telecommunications systems.” She had said.

 

He entered the final symbol, the one designating point of origin, and then hit the big red crystal in the middle which was supposed to send the address to the gate and send it spinning.

 

He heard a humming sound, and the red crystal chevrons glowed once, twice, three times and then everything went dark.

 

“I take it that wasn't supposed to happen.” Trip remarked.

 

“Nope. It's usually a lot more impressive.” Shepherd agreed.

 

Trip scratched his head and thought a minute. “You were able to make a connection to get here. Didn't you have any way of checking the place out before you came through?”

 

“Yeah, we tried sending that through first.” Shepherd pointed to a four wheeled robot that looked like it might have been more at home in the Mars exploration exhibit at the Smithsonian back home in North America. “It told us the atmosphere was breathable. Hot, but breathable. We came through, radioed back the all clear through the gate, and the connection was shut down from the other end.”

 

“So you had no way of knowing the gate wouldn't budge from this side?” Trip asked rhetorically. “Any chance they'd try to contact you again before they send someone else through looking for you? Could you talk to them then?”

 

“Our check in was supposed to be six hours after we arrived, right around the time your ship picked us up. They could have dialed in and we wouldn't have been here to tell them not to send anyone.” He replied.

 

“So they could be gearing a second team up right now?” Trip asked, continuing his line of reasoning.

 

“Yep. That's why we've got to get a hold of them somehow.” Shepherd told him.

 

“Right.” Trip said, looking back towards the abandoned buildings of the settlement. He finally saw the two figures they had been looking for emerge around the corner of the structure.

 

“What took you fellas so long?” Trip called out. “We were beginning to break out the poker cards waiting for you.”

 

“Sorry, Master Yoda wanted to uh, point something out to me.” Travis replied. “Something having to do with the previous inhabitants.”

 

“Right.” Trip responded as they came closer.

 

Yoda stopped near the coppery metallic pedestal of the D.H.D. and surveyed the great ring in front of him, studying it. “Recognize this, I do not.” He pronounced.

 

“Great.” Shepherd said, his frustration evident. “Now what?”

 

Yoda continued to face the ring unperturbed. “Recognize it, I do not. Unable to help this may not mean. Many objects created were in my time that only to the Force do they respond.”

 

The diminutive, elfin eared monk closed his eyes and held out a hand towards the ring, as though searching for something. “Ah, yes.” He finally pronounced. “Simple this lock is. Magnetically based it is. Buried in the ring itself. Requires a Force wielder to operate it does without dismantling the device completely. Not difficult. Not difficult at all.”

 

Looks of both relief and puzzlement flooded over Shepherd's face, “That's the best news I've heard all day, I think. But what does that mean, a 'force wielder?'”

 

Yoda chuckled and told Commander Tucker, “Dial the device again. Will work this time, I promise you.”

 

Trip looked at Yoda, and then did as he was instructed as Yoda stretched out his hand again and closed his eyes. When he hit the rounded red crystal in the center of the pedestal the effect was dramatically different as the inner ring began to spin and the chevrons began to light up in sequence. Within seconds a great vortex of what appeared to the naked eye as something like a combination of bright blue light and water rushed out of the ring's opening towards them and then just as quickly retreated back into the gate.

 

Immediately, a small communications device not unlike the communicators Trip and his crew mates used appeared in Shepherd's hand and he began to speak into it, “Atlantis Command this is Shepherd, do you copy?”

 

Within seconds he received a response through the device, and then began to explain his team's situation, and the warning he gave for them to not send another team through just yet. There seemed to be some surprise on the other end at the news of a United Earth ship rescuing them, as well as the other details of recent Earth history and technology he relayed.

 

“We're going to continue with the _Enterprise_ back to Earth and try and see what happened to Stargate Command and Earth's stargate, as well as continue to establish formal contact with the current Earth government.” Shepherd told those on the other end. “If all goes well, we'll return to Atlantis though the Cheyenne Mountain stargate.”

 

At the mention of Cheyenne Mountain, Travis noticed, Yoda gave a strange look of recognition as though he were trying to remember something. The pilot reached out in the Force to the ancient Master to try and learn more, but all he could discern was that the location was both important and disturbing to him.

 

Yoda then turned and looked back at Travis with a tired, weary look as though the weight of the world sat on his aged shoulders.

 

He knows something about it that he's not telling us yet, Travis thought to himself, but said nothing.

 

Finally, the call home was broken off, and the gate was shut down. “I guess that's mission accomplished, Trip said.”

 

“Yeah. We're going to need to take the Z.P.M. Jennifer's got hooked up to the gate with us.” Shepherd told him. “We're going to need it if we're going to be able to dial Atlantis again from Earth's gate.”

 

“Z.P.M.?” Trip asked.

 

“The zero point energy module there she's got connected to the gate.” The colonel replied, pointing at the small cylindrical crystal set into a metal brace connected to the stargate by cables.

 

“Zero point energy?” Trip asked again, whistling. “I've heard about that being discussed around the table by engineers for years, but I never thought I ever see one produced. That's got to produce more power than even an anti-matter reactor.”

 

“Let's just say you don't want to see one explode from within the same solar system.” Shepherd responded in such a way that Trip would have sworn he was speaking from experience.

 

Trip shook his head at the thought and went to work disconnecting it and packing it away.

 

When he was almost done, his communicator chirped and he pulled it out of the pocket on his sleeve. “Tucker here.” He responded.

 

“Get to the pod and get your away team back up here, Trip.” Came captain Archer's voice through the device.

 

“You got it. We just finished up. What's the hurry?” He asked.

 

“We've got company coming into the system, Trip, and they don't look friendly.” Archer responded ominously.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

The air on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ was filled with tension as Archer watched the forward view screen and the information it was giving him about their new “friends” coming to greet them.

 

“How long 'til they're in weapons range?” Archer asked.

 

“Ten minutes at present speed, sir.” Came Malcolm's response. “Two Klingon battlecruisers.”

 

“We're four days out from Klingon space.” Archer observed. “What are they doing here?” Archer asked. “No one followed us, right?”

 

“No one that we know of.” T'Pol answered. “Logic suggests this is a separate patrol from those that we engaged in the debris field.” She then added, “The Klingons don't necessarily recognize territorial boundaries, Captain. They see the rest of the galaxy as theirs as well. They just haven't gotten to it yet.” T'Pol responded.

 

“How long until the away team reaches the shuttlepod?” The captain asked again, contemplating another use of the transporter.

 

“I'm already picking up four...” T'Pol paused, “No, five bio-signs at the landing site. Captain, they're Klingon.” She reported, concern for her crew mates coloring her otherwise dispassionate tone.

 

* * *

 

Trip, Shepherd, Travis, and Yoda all packed up as much as they could carry of the Atlantis team's supplies and had headed back to the shuttle pod on the other side of the settlement as quickly as they could, but it was still ten minutes later by the time they were on the move again. As fast as Yoda could move on his own, his stride was still considerably slower than the three taller men, but Trip wouldn't leave him and Travis behind to scout ahead again.

 

Shepherd had retrieved the weapon he had involuntarily left behind when the _Enterprise_ had transported his team aboard; an antique, pellet and cartridge based rifle which could fire either single shot or multiple rounds in a second. Trip thought it looked like it could have been used in the last World War Earth had experienced the century before. The rifle was slung on a strap around Shepherd's neck with some care in addition to the strange looking pistol that was strapped to the man's leg using velcro fasteners.

 

“That's quite the antique you've got there, and it good shape too.” Trip mentioned. “I'll bet our tactical officer would give anything to have a look at it.”

 

“Thanks. Yeah, it belonged to my grandfather who got it from his dad. There aren't many of these old service weapons left in the colony. It's been kind of a tradition to take it out with us on missions.” Shepherd explained. “I'd have hated to lose it.”

 

“I'll bet.” Trip responded. “How do you get ammunition for it?”

 

“Atlantis has some replication technology available, and we have trading partners in Pegasus that still use projectile weapons like this. From what Jennifer and her brother Rod tell me, the bullets for it aren't all that hard to make.” Shepherd responded.

 

The four crossed the abandoned settlement carefully, laden down the Atlantis team's gear. Trip held the case with the zero point power module slung on a belt around his shoulder, while Travis and Shepherd each had their own load of whatever gear they could carry back to the pod in one trip. The three men had politely spared the aged, diminutive Yoda any burden other than his cane, although he had offered to carry what he could.

 

All of them were sweating profusely from the heat, and the extra weight. The cooling function on the starfleet desert uniforms had begun to be overwhelmed, and wet stains from their sweat seeped out and spread over their clothing.

 

“How… How much further?” Trip asked, breathing heavily.

 

“Not far.” Travis responded, his own breathing becoming heavy. “Just on the other side of that building there.” He said, pointing forward.

 

“Good. Cause when I get to the shuttlepod, I'm setting the environmental controls to 'arctic' permanently.” Trip responded.

 

They rounded the building and were greeted by a less than welcoming “tera'ngan!” and “mev!”

 

Travis's universal translator attached to his uniform rendered the words as “humans!” and “stop!” As they pulled up to a stop to face five heavily armed Klingons with weapons drawn, their forehead plates pronounced and threatening, and fangs visible with lips pulled back in grins upon seeing the three humans and tiny alien that traveled with them. Each of them held long, sharp, curved bladed weapons that held edges in places Travis couldn't imagine anyone needed them to be. They didn't appear to be anywhere near as affected by the heat as the humans.

 

The Klingons were standing next to the shuttlepod and had been facing towards it with what looked like a communicator in hand, but when one of them had raised the alarm, they all turned towards the four newcomers, their blades held in threatening stances.

 

Immediately Shepherd's antique weapon came into his hands, almost as if it had a life of its own, and the barrel was pointing at the largest, fur vested Klingon in the group.

 

“Hi fellas. Nice day isn't it?” Shepherd quipped. “Listen, If you wouldn't mind getting out of our way, we're in kind of a hurry and really need to get into that shuttle there.”

 

“You humans and that little rat have no business here, petaQ!” The Klingon responded, spitting.

 

“Hey guys, if this place was yours, you're welcome to it. We were just leaving anyways.” Trip added.

 

“You're not going anywhere, petaQ.” The big one returned, and brought out something like a black phase pistol but with a longer barrel and a wicked looking raptor shaped head from a holster.

 

“Anyone want to tell me what 'petaQ' means?” Shepherd asked, lowering his gun in a mock frustrated manner.

 

For a second, the Klingons looked confused and then they grinned at each other at the human's idiocy. Everyone knew what “petaQ” meant, of course.

 

Then Travis responded, “You don't want to know.”

 

“That's what I thought.” Shepherd said, and his rifle snapped back up and brief jets of flame came out the barrel. The big Klingon went down on one knee as bursts of twenty eight millimeter rounds ripped into his otherwise unprotected chest. The spray then went to his companions and bright pink blood began to cover them. But none of them dropped to the ground dead as he had expected.

 

“Oh, hell.” Shepherd exclaimed.

 

Then the big one stood up again and charged Shepherd, covering the distance in just a few strides, his speed and strength inhuman and not giving Shepherd or Trip any time to react. The Klingon's companions, covered in their own blood, roared with rage and joined him, sharp flashing blades raised to come down on the heads of the humans.

 

* * *

 

Time suddenly slowed down for Travis as long dormant instinct kicked in. Suddenly he was just “aware” of not only where everyone was, but where they would be in the next instant. Standing just behind Trip, he could sense the aggression and surprise of the Klingons. He felt their anger at the humans, their sense of violation of… something sacred. The humans weren't supposed to be here.

 

Before he could say something, Shepherd had squeezed his trigger. A red laser dot had emitted from the archaic weapon. And any chance of their talking their way out of this had disappeared as Travis felt each pellet leave the barrel of the weapon and speed towards the Klingon's chest. None of them had been aware before then of the many redundant organs lying within it.

 

As the Klingon charged Shepherd, Travis let himself go to the Force, and his hand flew up and reached out to a wicked looking blade that hung at the Klingon's side. The two handed sword (or was it a dagger?) flew into his hands and Travis jumped in between the Klingon and Shepherd, bringing the blade up to meet the curved blade as it came down. His left hand came up and through the Force, the Klingon was thrown two meters backwards onto the stone, his eyes closed into unconsciousness.

 

His companions wasted no time as they immediately changed targets and went for Travis's somewhat muscular, athletic frame which had now assumed a combat stance, two hands on the hilt of the weapon.

 

The first one tried to make contact, but Travis saw the swing before it happened and ducked out of the way, then somersaulted over the Klingon's head bring his own blade to bear on the Klingon's fighting arm, which then fell to the ground leaving a cleanly cut wound bleeding profusely.

 

The next one attempted to use the black phase pistol, but Travis tugged it out of his hands through the Force and it flew out of his hands and away off into the settlement. Immediately a blade similar to the one Travis was wielding appeared in the Klingon's hands and it swung towards the helmsman.

 

Travis sensed another blade attempting to come up from behind him and he leaped high into the air and landed two meters away to see one Klingon taking off the head of another Klingon, missing his right fore arm, that had plunged a dagger into his chest. Both fell to the ground dead.

 

Near him Travis could hear a Klingon voice screaming into the air, “Grethor Fek'lhr!” His universal translator had no words for it.

 

The remaining two Klingons faced him, crescent moon curved swords in their hands, but he saw something in their eyes he had never witnessed from a Klingon before, _fear_. He could feel it as well, coming off of them in waives, the Force telling him they believed they were looking at something straight out of their own version of hell.

 

“Take your wounded and go!” Travis shouted at them, putting the Force behind his words.

 

The two Klingons grabbed their unconscious and wounded comrade, holding him up under each arm, and then hauled him towards the shelter of a building in the ruins. As soon as they were out of site, Travis ran across the pink blood soaked stone to the shuttlepod and hit the code on the hatch to open the door.

 

“Let's go!” He shouted to his companions as he ducked inside to the pilot's seat, flipping switches, and hitting buttons until the familiar sound of the engines firing filled his ears. He turned around in his seat, expecting to see his companions behind him, but the pod was still empty.

 

Travis got up, and ducked his head out of the pod's entry to see Trip and Shepherd still standing there, while Yoda was slowly making his way towards the pod, his cane tapping against the rock. The chief engineer and Atlantis soldier had looks of profound shock on their faces.

 

They didn't have time for that, and Travis knew it.

 

“Commander, Colonel, we've got to go!” He shouted again at them, and they seemed to wake as they started moving towards the shuttlepod, though as in a daze.

 

The first to reach the pod and climb in was Yoda, who did so calmly as though nothing unusual had happened. He reached his seat, and buckled himself in quietly, a serious expression on his wizened, light green face.

 

Finally Trip and Shepherd entered the pod and strapped themselves in, both of them staring at Travis in bewilderment, their mouths still partly open, as he hit a button and closed the shuttlepod's entry door, and launched the pod into the air.

 

After they were in the air, Trip finally spoke, “Travis, what the hell was that? One second I thought Ronan here was gonna get his skull split in two, a split second later, there're Klingons in pieces all over the ground, and you're shouting at us to keep up!”

 

Shepherd added, “Yeah, what are you, some kind of Jedi Knight from those old movies or something?”

 

Travis didn't turn his seat or respond as he continued to focus on the edge of space coming increasingly nearer to them. In truth, he was thankful for the task of flying the shuttlepod. It gave him an excuse to pretend he hadn't heard it, even though the question continued to echo in his mind ever louder and louder.

 

In his seat, Yoda gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, an expression of satisfaction in his eyes, though none of the others had noticed.

 

The shuttlepod broke through the blue edge of the atmosphere and into the star filled blackness of planetary orbit. Travis skillfully directed the pod to where he knew Enterprise should be, directly over the landing site in high, geostationary orbit.

 

What he saw through the forward view bubble instead was a series of fireballs in space.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 

From the edge of the atmosphere where the shuttlepod had just emerged, through the pod's forward view bubble, Travis saw the terrifying sight before his companions did. Flanked by two raptor shaped Klingon cruisers, it looked as though the _Enterprise_ was burning in space.

 

“Travis, did you hear me? I want to know where all that came from.” Trip's voice became more insistant. But Travis had other concerns on his mind at the moment.

 

“Hang on Commander, we've got company.” Travis deflected the question.

 

From his encroaching vantage point, he could see warp plasma venting from the port nacelle, and the saucer section had taken heavy damage. His eyes darted to the hostile ships and could see they had taken some damage as well, but the _Enterprise_ had taken the brunt of the uneven firefight.

 

In front of him, jets of green Klingon disruptor fire, silent in the vacuum of space, lanced out at the starfleet ship, to be returned by red blasts of phase cannon fire which tore from his ship's saucer section and sliced back at the Klingons. As good of a fight as Malcolm was giving, Travis knew the odds were against the Earth ship surviving the encounter.

 

Panic and a sense of helplessness began to rise within the pilot. There would be no fancy flying maneuvers to save his crew mates' lives this time, and the shuttlepod was unarmed.

 

“What d'ya mean, 'we've got company'? Travis, what's going on out there?” Trip demanded to know.

 

“Looks like the Captain's got some unwelcome company he's trying to deal with.” Trip responded, trying to understate the issue.

 

Trip unbuckled himself from his straps and came up to the pilot's seat to stand next to Travis so he could see out the forward view.

 

“Oh hell.” He said as he surveyed the situation. “We've gotta do something!” He reacted. “Travis, what about all that fancy flying you did back in the debris field? Could you get the Klingons to fire on each other, maybe?” Commander Tucker asked, trying to quickly think through any way the little shuttlepod could help.

 

The two were joined by Colonel Shepherd, who also quickly assessed the situation. “Nope, I've tried something like that before. It didn't work much then either. The two hostiles are too busy shooting up the _Enterprise_ to worry about a tiny, unarmed shuttle.”

 

“Damn, they shot up my warp nacelle! She can't run neither!” Trip exclaimed.

 

“Do you have any way to dock? Maybe sneak aboard one of the Klingon ships and disable it from the inside?” Shepherd asked. “They may be so busy they won't notice us.”

 

“No, the minute we try it, their sensors will go off and we'll have a party of angry Klingons waiting for us at the airlock.” Trip told him.

 

Travis tried to think through any possible options. _Enterprise_ couldn't open their shuttlebay doors to receive them in the middle of that, and with the warp nacelle out of commission they weren't going anywhere any time soon.

 

“A powerful ally is the Force.” Yoda's quiet, gravelly voice came through the shuttlepod. “But then, just a pilot are you, yes?”

 

“What are you saying, Master Yoda?” Travis shot back. “Are you saying I can do something about this from here? Tell me what to do. I'll try anything!”

 

“Try? Heh!” Yoda laughed briefly. “Learned nothing have you?”

 

“I don't understand!” Travis returned as he watched another disruptor blast tear into the starboard side of the saucer.

 

“A good pilot this situation needs not.” Yoda responded evenly. “A Jedi, yes. A powerful Jedi with the Force as his ally… He could save his friends.”

 

“But I'm not...” Travis began to say, “I mean, I'm...”

 

“Just a pilot, yes. This much I know.” Yoda taunted coldly. Then his tone of voice became more the mentor and instructor Travis had come to know. “A Jedi you are, or a Jedi you are not. The choice is yours, young one. Choose wisely you must.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Trip demanded. “Travis, what's he saying?”

 

Travis didn't answer as he fought within himself, watching the next explosion tear across the port nacelle from a cruiser just off the port and to the aft of his vessel. He tried to remember everything he had supposedly been taught before, but it was still a blur. Master Yoda seemed to expect that he should know what to do, but his mind became a blank as the pod grew closer to the battle.

 

“Either I'm a Jedi or I'm not.” Travis told himself. The key seemed to lie there somewhere within him and he reached deep within himself and into the Force to find it.

 

The truth was that he was afraid of it. Once he had discovered the answer to all the mystery surrounding the mission from the previous year, it had sounded exciting at first, but then the reality of what it could mean settled in. He didn't want to believe that there was anything different or special about him like that. He didn't want the weight of a world, or of a galaxy on his shoulders. He was just a pilot. A good pilot, but just a pilot.

 

Except his friends didn't need a good pilot right now. So what was he? Just a pilot, or was he more than that? Was it even truly possible?

 

Another memory filtered to the surface of a scene in a restaurant with a huge green alien pig creature and a small waitress he was trying to kill. A voice cried out “Are you a Jedi or aren't you?!” And then he heard his own voice, clear as a bell respond, “I am a Jedi, and this is what we do.”

 

“Indeed, young one.” Came Yoda's response, and Travis then realized to his own surprise he had spoken those words aloud.

 

Suddenly, the memories of his training in the temple on Coruscant under Master Eddal unlocked and began rushing into his conscious mind like a flood, and he was aware. It was like waking up from a long sleep.

 

Surrendering himself to the Force as he had been taught, he closed his eyes and time slowed down again as he began to focus and become aware of the living energy field around him. It surrounded him, his companions, the shuttle, and extended out into space surrounding the three vessels trying to destroy each other. One of which wasn't far from the edge of the planet's atmosphere. He could feel the tug of gravity through the Force, and he reached out to the Force directing the waves of living energy around the port side Klingon attacker to harness the battlecruiser. He then focused on tugging the cruiser towards the planet.

 

Trip watched Travis stretch out his hand like he had in the gym towards the weights on the floor. “Travis, what the hell are you doing?” And then he realized what the helmsman was attempting. “That's impossible, Travis. That's no twenty kilo gym weight you're messing around with!”

 

“Only different in your mind, Commander.” Yoda told him calmly.

 

“Does someone want to fill me in one what's happening here?” Shepherd asked.

 

He could not see what was happening, but he could feel it through the Force. The cruiser began to move as he reached out and pulled it towards the shuttlepod's position at the edge of atmosphere. He could feel the panic of his counterpart helmsman on the battlecruiser as he tried to correct the ship's position, and then the anger and fear of the other Klingon crewmen as the ship's engines tried desperately to fight against the pull of the field of energy their ship's sensors couldn't detect to no effect.

 

“Holy Mary...” Trip exclaimed as he watched the Klingon cruiser begin to move away from the battered Starfleet ship and towards the planet.

 

Travis poured his concern for his crew mates into the Force, feeding the energy field with the strongest of his positive emotions in defense of his friends and surrogate family. The energy field responded by wrenching the battlecruiser away from its previous position more violently as it began to hurtle uncontrolled towards the shuttlepod, it's powerful engines powerless to stop it. Travis then sensed the cruiser pass directly under the shuttlepod.

 

“I don't believe it.” Trip said, dumbfounded.

 

“Is someone going to tell me what's going on or not?” Shepherd demanded in frustration.

 

“A powerful ally is the Force… A powerful ally.” Yoda said quietly.

 

“I'm not sure I know myself, Colonel.” Trip responded to Shepherd, his voice filled with amazement.

 

Soon, the hull of the ship began to glow as it scraped atmosphere and it lost all hope of recovery as it became a fireball high in the sky over the deserted world. It then slammed into the infernal desert, somewhere far south of the settlement they had just escaped from. It felt cold and hollow as he felt each of the lives of the Klingon crewmen snuffed out in the wreckage, and, feeling their pain and despair, he silently mourned their deaths as their living energy too returned and was absorbed by the greater Cosmic Force.

 

Sensing the Klingon's ship's final destruction Travis opened his eyes to observe the new scene in front of him as _Enterprise's_ weapons now concentrated all of their firepower on the other ship which had been attacking from her starboard.

 

Through the Force, Travis could feel the Klingon captain's confusion and a newfound respect for whatever unseen weapon that had brought down his sister ship. Travis sought to magnify that, hopefully planting the strong suggestion that a tactical retreat was in order. He then watched as the other Klingon attacker broke off their attack, moved off, and then disappeared as it jumped to warp.

 

The _Enterprise_ was still intact, worse the wear, but intact.

 

Travis then contacted the bridge, “Shuttlepod one to _Enterprise_.”

 

After a minute, he heard his captain's voice reply, “Go ahead, Travis. You fellows alright out there?”

 

“I was going to ask the same question, Captain. We're fine, requesting permission to dock.” Travis responded. Exhaustion began to creep into his voice as the strain of what he had done began to show itself.

 

“Permission granted. We're pretty banged up, lots of injuries, but by some miracle no casualties reported. I need my chief engineer back on board as soon as possible to assess the damage to the warp engines.” Archer responded, the relief in his voice evident.

 

He then asked, “Any idea what happened to the Klingons? It looked like they just all of a sudden took a belly flop towards the planet's surface for no apparent reason.”

 

Travis wasn't sure how to respond, especially if the channel was open to the rest of the bridge. He finally settled on, “I may need to talk to you about it in private, Captain.”

 

There was a pause for about thirty seconds. Then Archer responded, “Understood. See you on board. Archer out.”

 

“That's going to be some report, Travis.” Trip quipped. “Hell, I watched the whole thing and I'm still not sure I believe it.”

 

* * *

 

Sitting at his desk, Wilson was angry as the technicians reported their failure to him yet again. The incompetent fools were supposed to be the best and brightest Starfleet had to offer and yet they couldn't even get an antique computer interface working. The damn thing had been designed before the turn of the twenty-first century. It couldn't have been that complex.

 

Instead of trying to dissipate the anger as he normally would, under the guidance of the glowing red pyramid on his desk he instead used it to fuel a kind of meditation practice the device had taught him.

 

It made him feel powerful. More than that, it made him aware. Through his anger he started to be able to sense things he never could before. The new focus his anger brought him allowed him to sense when someone was in the room next to him, and then as he concentrated, when they were in the hallway. He knew what someone was feeling, whether they were frustrated or upset, whether they liked what the mess hall was serving for breakfast that day, and he could also sense the frustrations of the technicians that worked for him.

 

They really had no idea why it wasn't working. He could feel their certainty that they had followed the blueprints and diagrams with nanoprecision. He could feel their frustration at having to dissect the innards of the dialing hardware yet another time.

 

It didn't make sense. It was almost as if someone was intentionally sabotaging their efforts...

 

As he dwelt on that, he became more and more convinced that the idea was somehow right. Impossible for all the precautions he had taken, but right nonetheless.

 

It was impossible because Wilson had personally vetted all of the personnel working in the underground base. None of them would have betrayed Starfleet or Earth before giving their very lives for them. There couldn't be an alien sleeper mole among them. He had DNA scanned all of them himself. They were all verified as human beings from Earth.

 

He allowed himself to become frustrated at this, and the frustration fed his anger. This in turn fed his awareness as he used its ever expanding scope to search among his people for the saboteur he was convinced existed somewhere in the base. But all he met were the presences of his own loyal Starfleet people.

 

Nevertheless he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a saboteur. And the pyramid had been continuously instructing him to trust his instincts as well as his stronger, negative emotions.

 

He swore that he would find whoever it was and “have a word with him.”


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

Captain's Log: July 1st, 2159

 

_After answering a distress call from a remote planet, the Enterprise has taken on four more passengers. They claim to be descendants of what was a highly classified space exploration and defense program run by the old United States government called the “Stargate Program”. Their leader, Colonel Ronan Shepherd, claims those involved with the program left Earth towards the beginning of the Eugenics Wars in the mid twenty first century through an alien device called a “stargate” which I am told allows nearly instantaneous travel between two points in space through the creation of stable, artificial wormholes. This team claims to be from a colony established in a base called “Atlantis” somewhere in the Pegasus Galaxy. They arrived through one of these stargates which had been established on the planet below. I am told their mission was to attempt contact with Earth to determine what happened with us after their original base and stargate located there was subject to a nuclear attack during the war._

 

_While attempting to assist this team with making contact with their home, the Enterprise came under attack by two Klingon battle cruisers that entered the system. At the same time, our away team also came under attack by a group of five Klingons on the planet. I'm not sure I believe the report my officers gave me as to how they and this ship survived both encounters, but what they tell me is too fantastic to have been made up. Suffice it to say that after heavy combat one Klingon vessel was destroyed and the other one retreated. I'm told the Klingons on the planet took heavy casualties inflicted by my helmsman._

 

_The Enterprise suffered major damage during the fight. I am still waiting on my chief engineer's report on the full extant of the damage, and when we will be able to get under way again._

 

* * *

 

“Well...” Trip drew in a breath and blew it out, scratching the back of his dark blond head as he prepared to give his captain his assessment. He'd been up all night pouring over the data and reports from his own people for hours, even getting a good extra-vehicular view of the damage to the port nacelle. Now he stood in front of his captain's desk in his ready room, feeling a little like being called to the principal's office without having done anything wrong himself.

 

“How bad is it, Trip?” Archer asked him point blank.

 

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first, Captain?” His chief engineer asked.

 

“Good news is always welcome.” The captain responded from where he sat at his desk, himself looking over the sensor data from the recent engagement, still trying to make sense of it.

 

“The good news is that the port side warp coil is still intact and looks to be structurally sound. I can have the nacelle patched up and serviceable to warp three in about a day or so. I've already got my people on it.”

 

“And the bad news, Trip?” Archer pressed him.

 

Commander Tucker let out another slow breath again. “We took an awful lot of damage in the wrong places, sir. Those Klingons really gave us a pounding. I haven't seen it this bad since the Xindi mission.” He told his captain. “Two of the port side phase cannons are destroyed. There are hull breaches in a dozen bad places around the saucer. All that's fixable either here or in drydock back at Earth. But our real problem is that the antimatter storage units were damaged during the battle. Ensign Davis ejected them into space before they lost magnetic containment altogether. I would have done the same under the circumstances but it still leaves us in a bind. Right now we're keeping the lights on by means of back up generators, but we can't generate plasma for the warp nacelles without antimatter. I can patch up our engine, sir, but we're running on empty and need gas in a bad way, so to speak.”

 

“We can't go anywhere because we're out of gas?” Archer repeated.

 

“Yes, sir. I can try to jury rig something to convert some of the deuterium we've still got into its mirror image, but that might take a little longer. I'll probably need T'Pol's help on some of it.” Trip told him.

 

Archer thought for a minute, then added, “See if our new friends from Atlantis might have some tricks up their sleeve as well. That Dr. McKay seems pretty sharp, and correct me if I'm wrong but they claim to have experience with technologies that are still light years ahead of ours. If we're not getting back to Earth without antimatter then neither are they.”

 

“Uh… yes, sir.” Trip said, a little unsure.

 

“Problem, Trip?” Archer asked.

 

“It's just that that McKay gal… she's kind of a piece of work herself.” Trip responded.

 

“Noted. But she still may know a few things we don't that could help us get moving again.” His captain answered.

 

“Yes, sir. I'll get started on it right away.” Commander Tucker answered and then made to leave.

 

“One more thing, Trip.” Archer said, holding him up.

 

Trip stopped in front of the door, his hand reaching for the switch to open it. He then turned around, “Yeah, what's up?”

 

“What really happened out there last night?” He asked.

 

“Sir? What do you mean?” Trip responded, confused.

 

“I mean, Klingon warships don't just fall out of orbit and take a nose dive into atmosphere. Travis told me he suddenly got his memories back and used the Force to drag it down. Besides Travis, you've spent more time around Yoda than anyone else. What did you see? Do you think that's what happened, or did our other guest have anything to do with it?” Archer explained.

 

“I don't really know, Captain. Truth is, the possibility that anyone could pull a thousand metric tons of starship and drag it anywhere just by thinking about it scares the hell out of me.” Trip told him honestly. “I was kind of out of it from the heat to begin with, but from what I saw, the little green guy wasn't doing anything like closing his eyes or concentrating or anything that I've seen him or Travis do when they do that Force stuff when it was going on.”

 

“What about on the planet?” Archer pressed.

 

“One minute Travis and Yoda were behind Ronan and I, the next, there was Klingons and Klingon blood everywhere on the ground and Travis was shouting at us to keep up and get in the shuttlepod. I'd never seen anything like it.” Trip told him.

 

Archer considered that information. “That's an awful lot of power for any one person to have control over.” He finally said. “Wouldn't you say?”

 

“Yeah it is.” Trip agreed in a serious tone of voice. “Y'know, there used to be a whole religious order of these kinds of people that kept each other in check and took out the bad ones.” He said. “Yoda was talking like those bad ones might be making a reappearance the other day. I got the gist that's the reason why he wanted Travis to remember and relearn it so badly.”

 

“The lieutenant's a good man.” Archer observed. “I can't see him using this kind of ability for anything other than helping people.”

 

“Yeah, I agree, Captain. But...” Trip began.

 

“But from what we saw of those bad ones,” Archer picked it up, “the Sith, from those movies, if they were anywhere near accurate; imagine if just one of them who had the same abilities that Travis just demonstrated was let loose on Earth or in the rest of our little corner of the galaxy today with no one to keep them in check.” Archer said, the concern on his face growing, then more so as a new thought struck him. “Imagine if it was someone already in a position of authority or influence.”

 

“Yeah. Klingons would be the least of our worries. I think I understand now why Yoda came back. But then, why doesn't he just deal with the problem himself? Why go to all this trouble to bother Travis with it?” Trip asked.

 

“More questions to answer.” Archer observed, his hands unintentionally clasped together on his desk in what could be considered a gesture of prayer.

 

* * *

 

“For eight hundred years, did I train Jedi. Progressed much in a short time you have. More open to the Force than most Jedi I have trained you are. Done well you have. One thing more need you, and then complete will be your training.” Yoda told Travis solemnly.

 

They were sitting in the lieutenant's quarters. Travis had asked the Captain for the morning off in order to “figure some stuff out” after he had delivered his report on the events of the night before. Under the circumstances, the captain agreed without hesitation. Travis hated to be away from the ship's helm, which was where he still felt he truly belonged, but he couldn't ignore the choice he had made on the shuttlepod. The choice to accept what he was, and all the responsibility that held.

 

“What is that, Master Yoda?” Travis asked as he sat calmly, cross legged on the floor. Yoda sat in the same position on Travis's bunk in front of him.

 

From within the folds of his robe, Yoda withdrew a bag that looked large for him which jingled and clanked. He opened the bag, and through the Force allowed the contents to carefully and gently spill onto the floor in front of Travis.

 

Among the disparate pieces, there was a cylindrical tube, a small piece of what looked to Travis like crystallized dilithium (but too small to be useful in the warp reactor he knew), some small disks of transparent aluminum, what looked like a rechargeable power source from a phase pistol, and various other pieces of electronics.

 

Travis studied the pieces, trying to understand what this new test was. His eye was drawn to the cylinder. He picked it up. It was hollow on the inside. It looked like a short piece of fixed conduit; no more than twenty centimeters long and about four in diameter. Just the right size to fit in his hand. What did it remind him of?

 

Then he knew.

 

“A lightsaber.” He pronounced solemnly. “You want me to build a lightsaber.”

 

“A proper weapon a Jedi needs, yes?” Yoda confirmed for him.

 

He wanted to ask how the Jedi Master had acquired all of these parts without anyone missing them, especially the dilithium, but then thought better of it. If Grand Master Yoda wanted to filch some supplies, he doubted there was anyone on board who could have seen him do it, and most people might have just seen a bag of junk anyway.

 

“But Master Eddal never taught me how back in the Temple.” Travis protested.

 

“Hmmph.” Yoda retorted. “And know nothing about it do I, hmm?”

 

“Sorry. You're right.” Travis checked himself, forcefully reminded again that this was _the_ Jedi Grand Master. “Where do I begin?”

 

* * *

 

“You know, this would be a lot simpler if this was a hyperspace generator.” Jennifer McKay said for the fifth time in the last hour. “I could just hook the Z.P.M. into it and we'd be at Earth by now.”

 

“Yep.” Came Trip's response through clenched teeth. “I believe it.”

 

He and T'Pol had been working with the Atlantis scientist through the last hour of the morning in _Enterprise's_ engine room, and while the woman was indeed brilliant, and did have some amazing insights which even his Vulcan companion hadn't ever thought possible, the woman could be so insufferable, he still felt it would have been more comfortable working with a Klingon on a bad day than the younger, attractive blond scientist in front of him.

 

“I mean really, why didn't you people just stay with the hyperspace and naquida technology we left behind?” She asked. “You could have avoided having to use antimatter at all.”

 

“Well, we didn't really have a choice seeing as your ancestors weren't exactly open and up front with the rest of the world about its existence now did we?” Trip retorted as pleasantly as he could. “And as for this naquida stuff, I only heard about it the first time today from you. Considering that we're twelve light years out from Earth, I think we did alright without your people's help.” Trip's voice began to show his frustration.

 

T'Pol jumped in. “And yet we do appreciate your continued assistance in this matter, Dr. McKay.” She told the woman, putting a hand on the chief engineer's arm trying to ward off his flaring temper.

 

“Yeah, I can see that.” The Atlantis scientist responded dryly, turning her attention back to the matter at hand. “It just seems like such an inefficient design.” She said, not quite under her breath. “It's not like there's a huge quantity of antimatter just floating out there in case you run out.”

 

“Well, it was never a problem before.” Trip responded. “We don't normally have to carry carry a whole damn charge reversal production facility on board.”

 

“Vulcan ships don't have the capacity to convert normal matter to antimatter either. The technology still requires extensive facilities and power requirements.” T'Pol added.

 

A diagram of one of those facilities was up on the display screen of the computer they were standing in front of, and McKay went back to it looking it over again. “It looks like it still uses the same basic principles as one of the old particle accelerators Earth used to have.”

 

“Yeah, it's a thousand times more efficient, but it's basically the same idea.” Trip affirmed. “Problem is that we just don't have the kilometer or so of space they do to set one up here in engineering, not to mention the power requirements to do it. We're doing good right now with the lights and computers running off the back-up generators.”

 

“I'm pretty sure we can handle the power requirements with the Z.P.M.” McKay said somewhat patronizingly. “If only there was a way to shrink down the distance needed to accelerate the particles...” She continued to stare at the screen.

 

The last few minutes of conversation played back through Trip's mind, and something clicked. “Y'know, we field tested a hyperspace engine about a year ago.” He said without any warning.

 

Dr. McKay looked away from the screen in surprise. “You did?”

 

“Commander, that's classified information.” T'Pol reminded him quietly.

 

But the chief engineer kept going, “Starfleet wouldn't tell us everything there was to know about who came up with it. Not even the Captain. They wouldn't even give me the schematics for it or its power source it was so hush, hush. I'll bet dollars to donuts it came from someone running across the plans from your ancestors.”

 

“Did the test fail?” McKay asked, surprised.

 

“No, the engine worked just fine right up until we tried running the warp engines through a hyperspace window. That's when everything went sideways.” After a minute's pause trying to decide how much to say about the rest of it, he then settled with, “suffice it to say, after that the experiment was deemed a failure and Starfleet pulled the hyperspace generator back out of the _Enterprise_.”

 

“What do you mean it went 'sideways'?” She pressed, not understanding.

 

“It's not important at the moment. But my thought was that if someone back at Starfleet command got those plans from your people's research, then there's a good bet they've got more than that. And I'm just wondering, where would they have gotten all that information from? Where would your ancestors have stored all of it?” Trip asked.

 

“Well, the whole database on Atlantis was too big for any of the computers of that time period to handle. But outside of the city, the next largest cache would have been the base computers and libraries at Stargate Command under Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado in North America. But the last we heard of it, it had been nuked and the Stargate was presumed buried under a mountain of rock.” She responded.

 

“When was the last time your people tried to call home?” Trip asked bluntly.

 

McKay's face took on a look of comprehension as she followed his train of thought. “My grandparents tried it last. It's been decades at least.” She replied.

 

“Commander, perhaps we should discuss this with Captain Archer.” T'Pol attempted to break in again. “Unless our present problem is resolved, the Stargate on the planet below will be our only means of leaving this system.”

 

“Right.” Trip agreed. “So, whatcha think?” He asked McKay.

 

“I think we can come up with something.” She said, returning to the computer display, but her tone of voice and demeanor lacked a certainty as to which subject to which she was referring.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 

Klag sat cross legged in the ancient sandstone house staring out into the east of the warm desert night. Anyone observing him might have been forgiven for thinking he was meditating with his eyes open. The truth was he could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes the image of the human demon appeared, its eyes burning red at the gates of Grethor, beckoning him to enter into eternal torment. There would be no Stovokor for him.

 

He hadn't bothered praying to Kahless to help him. Either the Emperor had abandoned him, or else he would expect him to survive on his own. Either Klag was Klingon or he was not.

 

He had no technology with him. The ritual had demanded that they go into the desert without it. The only piece of modern equipment they had was Velker's disruptor, and he wasn't technically supposed to be carrying it. He paid the price for that mistake.

 

Out in the ancient stone plaza in the center of the abandoned village, his commanding officer's body lay still. His last breath had been taken before both suns had set and the warrior's spirit had left. He had respected Velker. He was a good warrior and a better drinker. He hoped his spirit had escaped the human demon's grasp and had made it into the halls of Kahless.

 

Not like him. He wouldn't die in combat. He wouldn't die fighting for the Empire or in defense of his family. He would dehydrate on this waterless world until his body shut down and only the dry husk remained.

 

He had nothing to eat, and only had hat little water that remained in the canteens from the bodies of his comrades. If he had to, he might be able to eat the flesh from the bodies, but they would rot in the heat beyond use before that became a necessity.

 

It had been a long, difficult week of fasting and testing in the desert for all of them. The sandworms, undetectable as life forms on any scanner, could be the most treacherous. You had to learn to trust your senses and your instincts, or they would come up from underneath you while you were meditating and you would never open your eyes again.

 

The five of them had just completed the final cleansing ritual on this sacred world before entering the priesthood of their people when they encountered the human trespassers. The tera'nganpu' had no right to be there. His commanding officer warned the humans with good reason. The tera'nganpu' needed to be sent a message to stay away from this world. After that… It wasn't like humans to shoot first that he had heard of. Velker was justified in defending himself against the black suited one with the archaic weapon.

 

The first rays of dawn began to appear in the east as he continued to wait. Although his instincts told him there would be no shuttle coming to retrieve him, not after the fireball he saw fall at

true dusk the day before. Somehow the Fek'lhr had brought down the vessel from the very heavens, he and Mortag were certain of it.

 

Mortag, his other living companion had left last night to attempt to find where it had gone down, believing there might be supplies still intact, if not survivors. Klag had tried to warn him that it was a fool's errand.

 

“The wind doesn't respect a fool, Mortag,” Klag had told him, reminding him of the words of Kahless, “Neither do the desert worms.” He had added.

 

“We shall see, Klag. Better to die on my feet as a Klingon rather than waste away in this village of ghosts.” This had been Mortag's response.

 

They both should have been on their way to Borath for their initiation as acolytes of the priesthood by now. But it appears Grethor had other ideas in mind for them. Or perhaps this was Kahless's way of telling them they weren't fit for the priesthood. Either way, the result was the same. They would both die without honor in this place. The desert had judged them and found them unworthy. Even the human Fek'lhr found them not worth the trouble to kill.

 

But why were the humans and their strange little green imp pet there at all? This was a question that kept going through his mind. There had been nothing on this world that had ever drawn the attention of any other race except his own before now, at least not that he had been told of.

 

No one knew how old the ruins were, but it was only a collection of structures built to withstand the ravages of time and sand storms. It had been obvious that those who built it did so on the bedrock outcropping so that the inhabitants would remain undisturbed by the desert worms that couldn't penetrate it. There was no obvious technology or weapons to be gained from here. There was the great ring with its strange symbols carved into it on the west side of the village, but he had been told it was only an ancient ceremonial site of “undetermined use.”

 

The humans had been coming through the village from the west side though. After the loss of his fellow initiates, it hadn't occurred to him before to investigate why the tera'nganpu' had been there in the first place. Perhaps it did have something to do with the great ring after all?

 

Perhaps he would not just sit here and die after all, he decided. Perhaps he would at least find out why the humans invaded their sacred training ground, and how to avenge his comrades.

 

“tlingan jiH.” I am Klingon, he said flatly to any demon or spirit who was listening, making his decision. He rose to his feet and in the first rays of dawn, walked with purpose towards the mysterious artifact.

 

* * *

 

Wilson stood staring at the stargate in front of him, allowing its inactive state to anger him, and then using that anger to drive his focus. The red holocron had taught him much in the last few days about the uses of anger, fear, and the other stronger emotions. They had pushed out his awareness of the living energy around him until it encompassed the whole underground base.

 

He could feel the discomfort his presence caused to the technicians around him.

 

 _Good._ He thought to himself. It makes them focus more, and their fear feeds my atunement to the Force. He needed that atunement now if he was going to find the saboteur. But so far, he was having no success among his people in the base. Either whoever it may be was exceptionally gifted at hiding his feelings and thoughts, or else there was no saboteur and the machine really was more complex than his people could handle.

 

Wilson stared at the symbols on the gate. From what he had read, each symbol represented both a star constellation and a sound like a syllabary, though the latter function was rarely used according to the database.

 

He focused harder, trying to listen to what the midichlorians in his bloodstream had to tell him. He had no idea what their concentration was, or how sensitive to the Force he might be through them, but the holocron continued to attempt to teach him things.

 

It came time for the technicians to beam back to there work camp on the surface, and the men and women around him began to disappear as he continued to stand there and focus. One by one he could feel each person leave his field of awareness until they had all left…

 

Except there was still one remaining. Wilson could feel the man's presence, but didn't know who he was.

 

“It's time to head back to the surface.” He said out loud without turning around. “Time to get some sleep and get a fresh start on the gate tomorrow.”

 

Surprise rippled through the Force, and Wilson felt the tremor. He turned around to face the man, except there was no one there. And then the presence he had felt was gone.

 

“What?” He asked aloud into the empty gate room. “What was that?”

 

Recovering from his loss of focus, he attempted to relax himself and stretch out his awareness again, but there was no one immediately there, and he couldn't encompass the whole facility again. But he knew what he had felt.

 

Someone had been there. Specifically a man had been there, invisible and undetectable by anything except the Force.

 

He knew two things for certain as of that moment. He had found his saboteur, and learning from the holocron was no longer just a pleasant diversion.

 

He lingered for a moment longer, and then, believing he was alone, made to return to his office. As he turned to walk through the great, ancient steel door and back up to his own office, all of a sudden he heard metal scraping against metal.

 

Quickly he turned back towards the gate to see the red crystal chevrons light up. A great whirlpool whooshed out three meters from the inner ring and then almost as quickly was sucked back in to leave what looked like a glowing blue puddle of water that was briefly, almost imperceptibly, broken by a minor ripple. And then the stargate died again.

 

“I think the technicians will be far more productive come tomorrow.” Wilson told himself.

 

* * *

 

Twelve light years away, Klag emerged from the collection of structures to set his eyes on the ancient metal ring for the second time. It had been of little interest except as an archaeological curiosity to his group of initiates when they had arrived, but now as he gazed upon it it was of decidedly more interest to him.

 

As he approached the upright circle and its pedestal monument, he could see that the tera'nganpu' had taken a keen interest in the device which was now surrounded by leftover equipment and some kind of robotic wheeled vehicle that appeared to be unarmed that he could see.

 

But what were they doing here? And why did they take such an interest in this thing?

 

Klag wasn't a scientist. He had trained, like every Klingon, as a warrior from the time he was small. Serving on various ships, he fought as well as any other warrior, better than some even, at least according to himself. But within the last year he thought he had felt the call of Kahless upon his life to a higher purpose in his service. That was why he had chosen to come here and prove himself worthy of the Emperor.

 

He began to rifle through the bags and boxes which the humans had left behind. He had little idea of what all of the equipment was for as he searched through the containers for something which might tell him what the humans wanted, but it was mostly discarded supplies; some food and water rations, computer devices with words in the strange, blocky human script, and of course the wheeled robot.

 

Klag gathered up the supplies and some of the portable technology into one of the black bags and turned to take it back to the structure which had been his shelter, out of the light of the rising suns, to try and figure it out. He was no scientist, but neither was he uneducated like some of the petaqmey he had served with. His father had seen to it that he could fight with his mind as well as his arm and it had served him well in the past. He would put it to use again. Perhaps he would find a way to create a distress beacon and tell the empire of the violation the humans had committed here. Then, even if he died here, he could die serving the empire and face Kahless with his honor intact.

 

Just then he heard the scraping of metal against metal and turned around to face the ring. It was spinning. The chevrons around the ring were glowing red. Certainly no Klingon had ever seen it do this before?

 

As he watched it, a great funnel of water whooshed out of the ring and then was sucked back in leaving only the strange sight of a bright blue puddle of water on its side covering the previously empty and hollow center of the ring.

 

“By Kahless!” He exclaimed in his own language, but held his ground refusing to yield to the demon of fear again. “tlingan jiH.” He said again. And then it became his war cry against whatever spirits were trying to break his own.

 

“TLINGAN JIH!” He thundered at the ring.

 

A strange collection of lights came out of the water in the ring and moved like a single being. It stopped and appeared to be… watching? Listening? Klag didn't know, but the thing felt alive.

 

“I am Klingon! I do not fear you Fek'lhr!” He roared at what could only be a spirit, whether from Stovokor or Grethor he did not know.

 

Klag watched as the lights seemed to turn in his direction and… were they studying him? “I am Klingon.” He repeated, and took the handle of the blade which had hung at his side and drew it. “I fear nothing.” He steadied himself for the spirit's attack.

 

Suddenly, a pool of clear liquid rose out of the rock at his feet and widened to nearly two meters across, and up past his ankles soaking his boots. He quickly jumped out of the rising pool, and then looked back at the lights in confusion.

 

The lights then turned from Klag and rose up into the sky towards the stars which had all but disappeared for the domination of the twin suns. Klag lost sight of the spirit, and then the great ring went silent and as dark again as it was before.

 

He knelt down to touch the liquid, bringing his wet fingers up to his nose as he smelled it. It was odorless. He put his tongue out. It was water. Cool, clear, clean water.

 

Unable to help himself he plunged his face down into it and drew long and hard bringing the life giving liquid into his parched body. The pool had expanded and grown to such an extent that even with the heat and evaporation, he knew, the pool would last for a few days at least.

 

Kahless had sent him a sign. Klag believed he understood.

 

He still had work to do.

 

* * *

 

Travis remain motionless as he sat on the floor of his quarters, his eyes closed. Levitating in front of him, a cylindrical tube was being paired with lenses and other electronic components. Some of which he had known the function of beforehand, some of which he hadn't. On the opposite side of the floating components sat the aged Jedi Master, equally engaged in concentration together with his student.

 

Travis felt the Force around him and he made it his goal to trust its lead in connecting the seemingly disparate components. His mind had no idea how they were supposed to fit together, and so he abandoned his conscious thought for a deeper awareness of their capabilities and functions that the midichlorians in his bloodstream were calling him to.

 

“An extension of the Jedi is his blade.” Yoda had instructed. “A reflection of the Jedi's mind and personality it is.”

 

Travis had always felt his most comfortable and needed at the helm of a starship. It was only appropriate then that the pieces for his saber were cobbled together from the same ship he had served and been devoted to. Like the _Enterprise_ around him, the beating heart of the lightsaber would be the dilithium crystal which would produce the recirculating plasma beam within the forcefields that would contain it.

 

Once again, time seemed to stand still for him as he felt himself surrounded by the living energy that was the Force. The Force itself was eternal and timeless, and the more he gave himself over to it, the more he understood not only his own connection to it, but to all living things through it. He was such a very small part of it, yet no less important than any other which had a part to play in the great system of life.

 

Piece joined to piece, connection to connection, slowly the saber's hilt came together the Force welding and soldering it all together. Finally the last piece was placed and the weapon was finished. Travis searched through it for imperfections, but couldn't find any.

 

“Good.” Yoda murmured from opposite him. “Good. A fine weapon it will be.”

 

The completed lightsaber then lowered to the floor, and slowly Travis opened his eyes to see what he had already felt through the Force.

 

“I did it.” He said quietly, with some surprise. “Wow. Master Yoda, look at it.” He couldn't help it, the awe of what he had accomplished seeped into his voice.

 

Yoda didn't answer. Travis looked up to his master, but the aged Jedi hadn't opened his own green eyes yet. Instead he looked like he had been locked in deep concentration, his face growing more concerned.

 

“Master Yoda?” Travis asked.

 

* * *

 

“Master Yoda?” The familiar voice called out to him through the Force. “Do you remember me?”

 

“Remember your voice I do, Daniel Jackson, though hazy much of my memory is. So much had to be given up to take this form again.” Yoda replied in the same manner. “Not much time left do I have.”

 

“I know my friend.” Daniel responded. “Do you remember why you took this form?”

 

“Yes. … Yes, I do. Wilson and the holocrons. Contained he is for the moment?” Yoda asked.

 

“Master Yoda, we may have a problem.” Daniel told him. “He felt my presence through the Force. I risk the Others casting me out again if I continue to interfere. I had to use the stargate in his presence to reach you here. He knows now that it still works and that somehow I was sabotaging it.”

 

“A matter of time it was.” Yoda responded sagely. “Almost ready this one is. A stargate below us is.”

 

“Yeah, about that… there's still one Klingon warrior down there trying to figure out what you're doing here. He's not going to be able to use it without showing him how it works.” Daniel responded.

 

“The Force the gate requires to use. The Klingon is no issue, though wrong it might be to leave him just stranded there without food or water. Speak to the captain I should.” Yoda remarked.

 

“I took care of his water situation, and he's got the Atlantis team's extra rations for a few days. But this whole thing is beginning to blow out of control. The ship that fled the other night is now reporting in to the Klingon High Command. They're telling them that humans from Earth have desecrated a sacred training ground. That's more than enough justification for them to start a war with Earth.” Daniel told him.

 

“Deal with that we can quietly.” Yoda said calmly. “The wiser the Others do not need to be. Soon, through the gate young Travis must go and stop Wilson.”

 

Daniel then paused. “Damn.” He then swore. “It may have to be sooner than either of us planned, Master Jedi. Wilson's going to kill the workers by the end of tomorrow once they have the gate computers and dialing mechanism up and running.”

 

“Will they?” Yoda asked point blank.

 

“There's nothing to stop them now.” Daniel responded.

 

“Then ready my padawan must be.” Yoda told him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 

Captain's Log: July 2nd, 2159

 

_Our port warp nacelle is undergoing repairs. I'm told it should be ready for warp travel by tomorrow. Our more pressing concern at the moment is the need for antimatter. Our own storage pods had been damaged and had to be ejected during the recent battle with the Klingon ships. Commanders Tucker and T'pol, and one of our new guests from the Atlantis team, a Doctor Jennifer McKay, believe they have come up with a way to generate enough antimatter to get us home. They are now in the process of testing their new “mobile” antimatter production unit using a zero point energy power source which Dr. McKay and her team brought with them. If it works, it would be a handy backup system to have on all the ships in the fleet._

 

_I have been informed by Jedi Master Yoda that there is still one Klingon survivor left on the desert planet below us, and have been “encouraged” by him for humanitarian reasons to attempt to bring him aboard as well. To be honest, after all my dealings with Klingons, I'm almost more inclined to leave him down there, but then I have to believe this is what separates humans and Klingons. The Klingons would just leave him there to die. I don't know if I could live with that choice. At the same point in time, I'm not sure we could convince him to come with us short of stunning him unconscious and dragging him back to the ship._

 

Captain Archer ended his log and sat in his ready room that morning going over more reports and sipping his coffee from the ship's galley. The coffee was strong that morning, and somewhat bitter, much like some of the choices he was being asked to consider.

 

The little green Jedi Master had come to him late last night and informed him of the Klingon's plight. He didn't bother asking how Yoda knew of the survivor, and didn't question the accuracy of it either. He felt he knew better than that by now, but it did leave him with a moral and logistical dilemma he could have done without at the moment.

 

And then there was the somewhat cryptic request the Jedi Grand Master made, that Travis and he be allowed to head down to the surface with the retrieval team and venture through the stargate alone.

 

“Can you at least tell me what for?” He had asked Yoda.

 

The Master Jedi didn't answer for a moment, but instead closed his eyes and leaned forward on his cane, and Archer could tell he was deciding how much he could or should say. It was as though Yoda was trying to balance the gravity of the situation with a captain's right to know what was happening, and the Jedi Master understood Archer's position as well as his own.

 

“Much I could say,” He began his explanation, but he didn't look up. “But dangerous could be the explanation for you and your crew.”

 

“Does it have to do with the Sith rising again?” Archer asked, remembering what Travis and Trip had both reported to him from their own conversations with Yoda.

 

Yoda didn't even bother acting surprised. There would be no point. “Yes.” He finally said. “A Jedi is needed, not a Starfleet officer. But if more than this I reveal, at great risk and in a difficult position I place you. If, however, ask this I do not, at great risk and in grave danger your whole galaxy do I place, and not just your corner of it. Stop it now we must, but alone I cannot. Your helmsman you can do without for a short time. My apprentice I cannot with this.”

 

This last humble admission from a being who, by all accounts, was one of the most powerful Jedi practitioners that had ever lived was what had truly caught Archer off guard and had swayed him to the seriousness of the situation.

 

“I'll consider it.” He finally told him, and Yoda nodded his acceptance of Archer's answer.

 

He hadn't slept well afterwards that night either. Five hours (or was it four?) was bad enough, but then the dreams came as well. He might have called them nightmares at one time except, in his tenure as captain of the _Enterprise,_ he had seen and experienced far more terrifying scenarios than his dreams ever put him through. But still, they were disturbing nonetheless. They had been filled with a somewhat familiar man dressed in black with some kind of black body armor. He was always in the shadows, and you could never quite see him directly but only out of the corner of your eye. In his dreams, the man was speaking at the United Earth lectern to a standing ovation flanked by heavily armed soldiers. Behind him, the United Earth flag burned. Next he saw his ship in flames, and much of his crew dead. They only got worse from there. Throughout his dreams it felt cold, dark, and hopeless.

 

He shuddered, trying to push the memory of them out of his mind as he focused on the data tablet in front of him. He took another sip of his coffee.

 

 _Do I have any real options in either matter?_ He questioned himself over and over again. I _s it really “the Force” at work, and is it giving me a choice?_ He didn't know, and he didn't like that he didn't know. It was the same kind of question as “does a deity exist and does that deity really govern the course of our lives?” Except that it was always just a theoretical question before, and one he felt he could safely keep a theoretically open mind on. Now, the situation they found themselves in was forcing him to make a decision on it.

 

He couldn't deny the things he had seen the Jedi able to accomplish through the Force, and they were both awesome and terrifying displays of ability and power at the same time. He was a rational man, and something of a scientist in his own right, and when there is evidence to back up a hypothesis, then that hypothesis must be taken seriously. And he had personally witnessed verifiable evidence for the Force in spades.

 

And now he was being asked to trust it and those who were called to interpret its will.

 

His tall metal coffee mug was just about half empty when the door chime to his ready room went off.

 

“Enter.” He called out.

 

His helmsman stepped through the door. “You asked for me, sir?”

 

There was something different about Travis as he stood relaxed, but somewhat formal in front of Archer's desk. He seemed calmer, more at peace with himself than he had been in a long time his captain noticed. Then Archer's eye caught a familiar looking, twenty centimeter cylinder shaped bulge from the right side hip pocket of his helmsman's blue Starfleet uniform. It didn't take him long to realize what it might be.

 

“So, may I see it, lieutenant?” Archer asked, pointing at the bulge.

 

Travis didn't bother asking what, his instincts already told him what the captain was referring to as he unzipped the pocket on his coverall and brought out the newly fashioned yet ancient weapon and held the unactivated hilt in the palm of his open hand.

 

Archer made no move to take it, but instead stood up from his chair and moved to inspect it briefly as the helmsman held it. He nodded wordlessly, then gently closed his helmsman's fingers over it in a gesture of acceptance. Then, Travis returned the lightsaber to his pocket.

 

“Master Yoda helped me make it last night, sir.” Travis told him. “He thought it would be fitting if it was made from the same materials as the _Enterprise_.”

 

Archer nodded again in agreement. He then asked, “So you've come to accept this as your role again?” His tone was probing.

 

Travis paused, and then said with a certainty, “Yes, sir. It feels like the right thing to do, at least for now. It's like when I'm at the ship's controls. It just feels right, like I'm where I belong, and being who I was meant to be.”

 

Archer nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Yoda made a request last night. He asked to be able to take you through the stargate device below us. He didn't say where, and couldn't tell me the details of why. But he seemed pretty convinced that he needed you, and that we would all be in danger unless I allowed it. Before I make a decision either way, I need to know where you stand. Do you trust Yoda? Do you think you're ready for something like this?” Given the abilities Travis so recently demonstrated, Archer felt almost silly asking it, but he felt he had to.

 

Travis took a moment to consider the captain's question. Then he answered, looking his captain straight in the eyes. “Yes, sir, I trust him if he says it needs to be done. But no, sir. I know I'm not ready for it if Yoda thinks it's that serious. But that's the point of being a Jedi. It's not really the Jedi doing anything. Commander Tucker kept asking me how I pulled that starship from orbit, but I didn't really do anything. The Force did. In a way, I just asked it kind of like a deep kind of prayer, and the Force and I worked together to make it happen. That's why size doesn't matter, because it's not the Jedi really doing any of the work except cooperating with the Force. So if I was going to go into it just myself, then no, I'm definitely not ready for any of it. But Yoda's right, the Force is a powerful, powerful ally if you cooperate with it. And with the Force as my ally, then yeah, I think we can do what needs to be done.”

 

“Even against a Sith?” Archer pressed, remembering the kind of power a dark side user could wield.

 

“The Sith draw their connection to the Force through hatred, anger, and fear. These seem like really powerful emotions. But one think Master Eddal once taught me was that nothing is more powerful than love, and this is what connects the Jedi to the Force.” Travis responded.

 

His helmsman's sagacity and growth over the last few days shouldn't have surprised Archer, but it somewhat did and he felt a little bit of familial pride in his officer like a son or a younger brother.

 

Archer nodded again. He then had one final question, “Do you want to do this, Travis? Do you want to go with him? I could order you to stay put and give you the excuse not to go.”

 

“Sir, if it's really all of us at stake, could you stay behind?” Travis responded.

 

“No, I don't suppose I could.” Archer responded. “Alright, as of this moment lieutenant, you're on temporary leave until you get back. Trip tells me we might be ready to go in a couple of days if the antimatter production unit works like they hope. I don't think we've heard the last of the Klingons that ran. You've got forty eight hours to make it back through the stargate and contact us. After that, I'm taking the ship on to Earth. Stay safe and good hunting.”

 

“Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you, Captain.” Travis responded, and then turned to leave.

 

“Oh, and Travis, one more thing.” Archer said behind him.

 

Travis turned around, “sir?”

 

Archer smiled but said with some seriousness, “May the Force be with you, Jedi.”

 

Travis returned the smile and said in response, “And also with you, Captain.”

 

And then he left the ready room, and Archer wondered if he had made the right decision. _But then, did I really have a choice?_

 

* * *

 

Daniel didn't return to Earth after warning Yoda. He had already pushed it farther than he was supposed to, and now he himself had to trust that the mortals would be able to resolve the potential crisis on their own. Instead, he remained behind on the desert world to observe the stranded Klingon.

 

They were an interesting and contradictory people that reminded him a great deal of the Jaffa he had known in his previous life. If Archer and other people from Earth could only see the strength, and character in these warrior poets that he did, their loyalty to their honor, their families, and their empire, they might be able to relate to them through a common shared warrior culture that endured throughout Earth's history. He thought things might go differently between the two peoples if they would just give each other the chance.

 

This Klingon was more than he first appeared to be for the Starfleet officers as well. Truth was, Daniel kind of admired his tenacity, and his stubborn faith that refused to die even here. He wondered if he and Klag might have even become friends once upon a time just like he and Teal'c, the Jaffa who had become more than a brother to him.

 

Right now, Klag was in his shelter working on a way to build some kind of a communications device to contact his people out of the bits and pieces of electronics left behind by the Atlantis team. Never mind that Klag wasn't a scientist or an engineer, he intently studied the devices in front of him trying to teach himself how they worked and how he might use them. Daniel admired his stubborn refusal to give up and give in to his circumstances.

 

The real question would be whether or not Klag would accept the rescue from _Enterprise_. “Probably not.” Daniel admitted to himself, but their stun weapons would allow them to retrieve him unharmed from this death trap of a planet.

 

The away team had just boarded the shuttlepod and would be back down on the surface within the hour, Daniel knew. Then he would see how things would actually play out.

 

And then things went sideways, and then horribly wrong.

 

“No.” He expressed. “No, that wasn't supposed to happen yet. It's too soon.”

 

Daniel had kept part of his attention still focused on the situation on Earth, and on Wilson. And the images he began to receive from there became very, very dark very quickly.

 

He left Klag where he was and began to move back towards the stargate. He had to stop it from happening!

 

And then it was like he had slammed into an invisible brick wall.

 

“What the?!” He exclaimed. And then realizing what was happening he said, “No, not now! Do you realize what's happening? What's going to happen?”

 

“You cannot interfere any more than you have already, Daniel Jackson. You more than anyone should understand the consequences of using your power as one of the ascended to influence mortal affairs.” Came the voice of one of the Others. The voice was female, and somewhat motherly, and resonated with a slight Latin accent. “Or did your experiences with the Ori not impress the lesson on you that it should have? We are not gods to determine who is to live and who is to die.”

 

To his own perceptions, in front of him materialized the form of a woman in her prime with long blond hair tied back in a thick braid wearing the white and tan dress which had been common to the Ancients. A name came to him, Uria, though he had rarely had dealings with her before.

 

“But innocent people are going to die!” He protested.

 

“Mortals die every day. The young, the old, the guilty and the innocent. It is not our place to either bring it about or to prevent it.” Uria told him. “No matter how difficult watching it may be. I thought you had understood that from observing Earth's Eugenics Wars. They must solve these problems themselves, or there is no difference between ourselves and the Ori who made themselves into gods.” Then her tone softened a bit as she said, “The ancient one whom you call Yoda has already made his choice to interfere and instruct the young helmsman again. Many of us are already concerned about the impact this will have on this galaxy. Please do not add to it. Turn aside from this, Daniel. You have always been a good and compassionate soul. But this cannot be your fight any longer. There would be disastrous consequences for everyone involved, including yourself.”

 

Daniel paused, considering her words. He had observed the Eugenics Wars, and true to his word when he had ascended the last time, he had stayed out of it, watching the mass murder of millions of people in silent horror. He had all the power in the universe it seemed at his disposal, and yet he remained powerless to stop it.

 

But she was not wrong either. History and events had to be allowed to unfold. People had to be allowed to make their own mistakes, sometimes very costly ones. Empires had to be allowed both to rise, and to fall. People had to be able to choose for themselves whether they would be good or evil, light or dark. He couldn't make that choice for them, nor would he.

 

“I will not interfere.” Daniel said, fighting with himself, but understanding her concerns.

 

“It is for the best.” Uria responded.

 

“And Yoda?” Daniel asked, knowing the Jedi Master's mortal days were numbered. “Will he be allowed to rejoin us?”

 

“The ancient one has made his choice, and he must live with the consequences of it as must we all.” She answered. “Whether or not he ascends again is up to the ancient one's own abilities, not ours.” She told him. “Now, I bid you farewell, Daniel Jackson.”

 

“Wait.” Daniel said, stopping her from leaving. Something puzzled him.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You referred to Yoda several times now as 'the ancient one.' Why is that?” Daniel asked. The special title made no sense to him, as the vast majority of the ascended themselves all easily qualified for the title of “ancient”.

 

“Were you not aware? Yoda, as you call him, was the first of us to learn to fully ascend many millions of Earth's years ago. He has truly been the most ancient and wisest of us all; at least until now.” She answered.

 

And with that, she was gone, and the invisible barrier to the stargate was removed leaving Daniel alone with his own troubled thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Overhead, the _Enterprise's_ shuttlepod had entered the planet's atmosphere and was now making its descent towards the abandoned ruins. The pod's underside glowed against the heat of re-entry as it speeded towards the surface in a controlled flight which might have seemed impossible for the craft's boxy shape.

 

Captain Archer held onto the straps of his seat as the pod made it through the initial burn and continued its descent. Travis was at the pod's controls. Next to Archer sat Yoda on one side, and Lieutenant Hoshi Sato on the other, who was still better than the U.T. at understanding Klingon. Opposite them were two M.A.C.O.s in the event the Klingon attempted to avenge his comrades on his rescuers.

 

The Captain had come partly because if anyone was going to attempt to explain to the Klingon that they weren't going to kill him, and hopefully not take him prisoner either, then he would be the one to do it. Although in retrospect, he wondered if T'Pol wouldn't have made a more logical choice.

 

Next to him, the Jedi Grand Master sat in silence with his eyes closed. Whether he was meditating, attempting to commune with some unseen presence, or just trying to keep from losing his breakfast from the re-entry turbulance, Archer couldn't tell. Although, bad as it might sound, he was hoping for the lost breakfast theory. It seemed at least like something he could understand.

 

“Five minutes to the stargate.” Travis reported after the external heat and smoke had cleared up.

 

Archer looked over to his left to where Yoda sat. For a second, he held a wicked image in his mind of the green skinned Jedi turning a few shades greener with bulging cheeks trying not to vomit. But the expression he saw on the Master Jedi's face was far less humorous and far more despairing as Yoda's eyes came open. Archer would have sworn for a second that he might have seen tears forming in the aged teacher's eyes.

 

“You okay?” Archer asked him.

 

Yoda looked up at him sadly, “A dark disturbance in the Force I have felt.” It looked like he might shiver. “A dark disturbance.” He repeated. “Much more complicated this has become.”

 

“What do you mean?” The Captain asked him, concerned. “Is your mission still a go?”

 

Yoda thought for a minute. “Yes.” He finally said. “Yes. Go through with this the both of us must. For this reason do we exist. Know everything about what has happened, I do not.”

 

“Got it.” Archer replied, though his own insides began to twist in knots at the thought of whatever could have given the powerful Jedi Master the expression of despair that now adorned his elf like features.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 

Klag observed the box like tera'ngan craft as it put down on the bedrock near the great ring, but himself remained in the shadows of the sand stone buildings. The Emperor was looking down at him and judging him at this moment. He did not fear them. He would not fear them or any Fek'lhr they brought with them. But he would not reveal himself until he was ready. The confrontation would be on his terms, not theirs.

 

No doubt they would have some kind of bio-signs detector to locate him. Let them come. He had no intentions of being captured by the demon consorting humans even if they tried to use their dishonorable stunning weapons that he had head rumors of.

 

He retreated back into the village, and back into the structure which had been his shelter from the suns above. His beacon was almost complete, at least he believed it was. Everything looked right from what he remembered of the technology instruction he had received. The human components he had to work with were so rudimentary, the tera'nganpu' had made his job easy for him. He was certain it would do its job well.

 

He bent down and connected the power source he had scavenged, and lights on the device began to blink. It emitted no sound, but it would keep repeating the same message over and over again on subspace frequencies out into the stars until the power cell died:

 

“Humans have desecrated Debma'.”

 

Within hours, the whole Klingon Empire would know what had happened here. Then the humans would know the Klingon heart in the wrath of the sons of Kahless.

 

Satisfied that this task was completed, he pulled the D'k tahg blade which had hung on his waist in its sheath out and into his hand. He turned the blade over inspecting it, holding it reverently. On the hilt was inscribed the crest of his House. It was a noble and honorable house, if among the Klingon families. He would not dishonor it. Not today. Not ever.

 

The words of the ancient song began to stir in his mind and heart:

 

“Qoy qeylIs puqloD  
Qoy puqbe'pu'  
yoHbogh malthbogh je' SuvwI'  
Sey'moHchu' may' 'Iw  
maSuv manong 'ej maHoHchu'  
nI'be'yInmaj 'ach wovqu'!  
  
batlh maH ghbej'jyoqIjDaq  
vavpu'ma' DImuvpa'reH maSuvtaH  
Qu' DamevQo' maSuvtaH, ma'ov”

 

Before he realized what he was doing he found his own voice repeating the words with a passion he had never thought possible. Was this what true faith was?

 

_Hear! Sons of Kahless_

_Hear! Daughters too._

_The blood of battle washes clean._

_The warrior brave and true._

_We fight, we love, and then we kill._

_Our lives burn short and bright._

_Then we die with honor and join_

_our fathers in the Black Fleet_

_Where we battle forever,_

_Battling on through the eternal fight._

 

The words came out reverently as a hymn to the Emperor himself, and he felt a peace wash over him, a calmness and sense of honor driven purpose he had never known before. It was the calm before battle, and he knew he would win because the greatest enemy had been the cowardice in his own heart, and it was no more.

 

Standing up straight, and facing the open doorway, he recited a another short litany to Kahless, the great Emperor and bringer of honor to his people. Then with the Emperor properly honored, he went out into the dueling suns's light to meet his would be tera'ngan conquerors.

 

* * *

 

The Klingon stood a good fifteen meters away from Archer in between two of the outer structures as the away team exited the craft. He seemed tense, but determined. A strange, wicked looking dagger was held in his right hand threateningly, blade pointing downwards as if poised to strike.

 

“You know, I'm not too sure he really wants to be rescued.” Archer remarked for Yoda to hear as the Jedi Master also came to stand next to him.

 

“Made an offer must be nonetheless, Captain.” Yoda responded, his voice sad and tired. “If not for him, then for us. Lose sight of who we must be we cannot.”

 

Archer considered this and then slowly nodded his understanding wordlessly. It was a lesson he himself had learned at a great cost to his own conscience several years before. He didn't want to go back to being who he felt he had to become in that mission that at times seemed so dark that some days he couldn't find the light in anything; in himself least of all.

 

The M.A.C.O. soldiers came out to stand immediately to Archer's side, their phase rifles in their hands, but not aimed at anything or anyone. Their trigger fingers held ready.

 

“Set your rifles to stun, soldiers.” Archer instructed them. He heard immediate clicks come from the rifles in response to his order. “We don't want to actually hurt him, even if he doesn't feel the same way about us.” He added.

 

Yoda nodded his agreement.

 

Then the Klingon raised the dagger in his right hand high and shouted across the desert something which sounded like, “tlhingan wo' batlhDaq jiHegh jiH!”.

 

Archer looked to his translator, Hoshi Sato in confusion for an explanation.

Then Archer saw Hoshi's face extend in horror and heard her scream.

 

His eyes flew back to the Klingon. To Archer's own surprise and horror, the Klingon had plunged the dagger into his own chest and pulled it sideways tearing whatever vital organs might have been in his chest. The big alien warrior dropped to his knees, his hand still on the hilt, his eyes ablaze with a fiery defiance as pink fluid flooded the front of his clothes. Then he fell sideways onto the stone paving of the ruins.

 

“Go!” Archer shouted to the M.A.C.O.s “Try and stop the bleeding!” He ran towards the Klingon with them, but he already knew it would be too late.

 

“Hoshi, what did he say?!” Archer yelled behind him as he reached the dead Klingon, demanding to know, not understanding in the slightest what just happened.

 

Hoshi didn't look at him, and had averted her eyes too late from the scene. Her voice trembled as she spoke, “He said, 'I die for the honor of the Klingon empire', sir.”

 

Archer looked towards the soldiers who had reached the body first and were already checking to find any pulse they could. But the pool of pink blood told him everything he needed to know and his run slowed to a stop. The soldiers looked back at him and shook their heads, confirming what he already knew. The Klingon was dead.

 

 _What a damned waste_ , Archer thought to himself as he closed his eyes and tried to steady himself from the angry sorrow which was building within him.

 

Under his breath he said silently, “I will never understand these people. Never.”

 

“A long time is never.” Came the voice of the aged Jedi Grand Master from somewhere next to him. “Died for something important I sensed he believed. Respect this much at least I can, if not the response.”

 

“Did you know this would happen?” Archer asked, his voice tinged with anger.

 

Yoda paused then sighed. “No. Sensed a determination and faith within him I did. But this? No way of knowing I had. His people I do not know.”

 

The anger died away within the Captain. _Not even Jedi are omniscient_ , he reminded himself.

 

“Much time we do not have, Captain Archer. Go Travis and I must if we are to stop more death from spreading.” Yoda told him.

 

Archer opened his eyes and looked down at Yoda. “Of course.” He said respectfully. “Forty eight hours. Good luck.” He added.

 

“Understood.” Yoda responded, and then returned to the shuttle where his apprentice was waiting.

 

* * *

 

Daniel Jackson watched the whole scene unfold silently, unable to do anything to stop it. Just like he could do nothing to stop the beacon, or even warn the captain who had earned the ascended being's respect. Uria had made that perfectly clear.

 

The captain had been right. It was a waste of an otherwise good man for a Klingon. He might have gone on and been a great spiritual leader for his people, but now no one would ever know what his future might have held.

 

For a brief moment, he wondered if perhaps Kahless had been watching the whole scene. Was it possible the former emperor had ascended? The Milky Way galaxy was a big place. There were thousands of ascended beings that he didn't know, maybe even more. He wondered if the Klingon icon would really have approved of his follower's actions or not.

 

His attention then turned of necessity to the two mortals who now stood in front of the stargate's D.H.D., and he watched as the taller of the two dialed the same sequence of symbols which he himself had known all too well. They were the symbols for Earth. In his life they had come themselves to symbolize home, and he knew this time they would connect.

 

And he couldn't do anything to stop it from happening.

 

The chevrons lit up under Yoda's careful direction and the familiar vortex of space and time whooshed out and then back. In the center of the great ring stood what looked like a pool or puddle of water standing on its side.

 

The tall, dark, athletic Jedi in the blue Starfleet jumpsuit took a metal cylinder out of his pocket and held it ready in his hand as he approached the gate slowly.

 

“I know Colonel Shepherd said it wasn't that different from the transporter,” he said to Yoda as he looked at the active stargate with a sense of awe. “But to be honest, looking at it like this again, I'm not so certain about it now.”

 

“Your own choice this is. Make it for you no one can. Yours alone is the responsibility, but the consequences the whole galaxy will feel regardless of the choice you make.” Yoda told him sagely.

 

“Right. No pressure then, master.” Travis said ironically.

 

But Daniel knew that the Jedi-helmsman had already made his choice. He had made his choice long before he set foot in the shuttlepod.

 

“This is what we do.” Travis repeated to himself, and then he added, “There is no emotion, there is only peace...”

 

Daniel could feel the peace that then surged through Travis' consciousness, and the Jedi stepped forward towards the wall of energy and then, unlit lightsaber in hand, he crossed the threshold and disappeared. Behind him, Yoda followed wordlessly, and the gate's platform was empty.

 

 _I promised I wouldn't interfere._ He told himself, making up his mind. _I didn't say anything about staying put here._

 

Sensing that the gate was about to close, in the blink of an eye he launched the energy of his presence towards the stargate and then plunged through the pool after them. Then, quietly, the gate deactivated and became a silent monument once again.

 

Unknown and unheard to the remaining _Enterprise_ crewmen, the Klingon beacon continued to cry out its message of violation of the warrior people's sacred world to the stars.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

Travis emerged from a puddle of energy in a cavernous room that he had never seen before. The hilt of his lightsaber still rested firmly in the palm of his right hand as he quickly took in his surroundings.

 

The chamber was empty of any other living beings that he could see or feel. He was standing on a raised metal platform which extended into a metal grated ramp which itself led down to a polished cement floor. Around the room had been set up power conduits, computers, and other technical equipment which lined the archaic, utilitarian cinder block walls.

 

The whole place had the feel and smell of an ancient military installation from before the Eugenics Wars. It was kind of like Zephram Cochrane's old warp experiment museum in Montana his parents took him to when they had been planetside on Earth during his third grade year. That had been a converted nuclear missile silo, and this looked a lot like the lowest floor of one too.

 

Behind him, as he turned all the way around, was a stargate identical to the one he had just come through, and behind that was more cider block wall and equipment. As he turned around again, he saw directly in front of and above where he stood a set of windows which looked like they concealed some kind of control room behind them.

 

 _Fear_. The sense came rippling through the Force. He could sense much fear and terror lingering in the Force around him. It felt cold and dark even though the overhead lighting left no shadows in the large chamber.

 

He flipped the switch on his lightsaber which sprang to life with its white prismatic blade that strongly reminded him of a stream of warp plasma the first time he had seen it engaged. He assumed the similarity was due to the dilithium crystal which was at the heart of the weapon.

 

As he stepped forward cautiously, he heard another being step forward out of the stargate, tapping a cane as he walked.

 

Yoda said nothing, but closed his eyes as if searching for something. When he opened them, there was a single tear which fell.

 

“Too late we were I fear.” The Jedi master whispered.

 

“Too late for what?” Travis asked, his eyes and senses tuned to every direction around him.

 

Yoda didn't answer but slowly continued forward across the platform and down the ramp until his small, bare clawed feet hit the cement.

 

Travis could feel the deep sadness radiating off of him, and didn't know how to help. He had come to understand that Yoda had his own reasons for what he information revealed and what he didn't. He knew those reasons could have galaxy wide consequences.

 

“Search for survivors we must.” Yoda said softly.

 

“Survivors of what?” Travis asked as he followed him.

 

“The dark side of the Force,” Yoda answered ominously, “feel it do you?”

 

“Yeah. It feels cold.” Travis responded. “The space around us feels filled with fear, like dozens of people became terrified all at once and then...”

 

“Gone were they.” Yoda finished for him. “Yes. Focused on the Force stay you, listen to what it tells you. This you must do.”

 

“Yes, master.” Travis replied as he kept his eyes scanning the room.

 

He recognized the equipment, it was Starfleet issue. As he looked around, he took in the fact that all the signs and computer displays he saw were in English. His instincts told him this was a Starfleet facility.

 

 _Danger, from the left and above you_. The Force warned him and his lightsaber instantly came up to deflect the phase pulses which aimed at his head. The streams of energy passed harmlessly into the cement floor, but left deep gouges behind them.

 

 _From the right and forward._ The lightsaber's blade sliced through the air to catch the next beam of plasma which had been aimed at him. Without thought, Travis through the lightsaber at the offending automated weapon and it was reduced to slag before he called the hilt back to his hand only to send it flying out again at the first cannon, and another that he could feel was powering up. By the time the saber returned to his hand for good no less than five automated phase cannons had been destroyed, two of them by their own plasma streams.

 

“More of these weapons there most likely are.” Yoda remarked calmly. “Prepared we must be.”

 

Travis didn't reply. He didn't need to as he passed by the blackened gouges left by the phase cannon fire. Then he noticed something else on the cement floor. It was a large stain of some kind.

 

He knelt down and inspected it. It looked like something organic had been _dissolved_. Whatever had melted it had been an insane amount of heat.

 

“Master Yoda, you might want to see this.” He told the Jedi master.

 

“Know about them I already do.” Yoda replied sadly.

 

“Them?” Travis asked, he had noticed only the one stain. He looked back to Yoda in confusion, and the diminutive figure simply pointed towards the floor in other parts of the chamber where other, similar stains and splotches covered the floor. And then as he looked, he saw one “stain” that hadn't fully dissolved. Instead, on the edge, there was a human hand with a gold wedding band which had been severed and cauterized at the wrist.

 

Bile began to rise in Travis' throat, and he could feel anger begin to rise within him. As soon as he saw it, he began to recite the Jedi's code, “There is no emotion, there is only peace...” His anger now would only make things worse for everyone he knew.

 

“Not meant for just us those weapons were.” Yoda told him. “Up there we must check.”

 

Yoda pointed towards the windows overlooking the stargate chamber.

 

Understanding now the stakes involved, Travis stood up and said solemnly, “Let's go.”

 

The two headed through a large doorway that looked as though it had originally been protected by a huge rolling metal door. Yoda then turned an immediate right through another door and up a small flight of stairs.

 

The control room was silent as the grave as Travis and Yoda entered. Not much had been altered in terms of the original pre-third world war structure or architecture anywhere in the facility, but Travis saw signs of Starfleet and Starfleet technology everywhere enhancing and upgrading the existing systems. An acrid odor assaulted Travis's nose like meat that had been burnt to charcoal at a barbecue, but for the darkness of the room, he couldn't make out where it had come from.

 

As he looked at all of the archaic computer systems being integrated into their modern counter parts, the encounter they had to get the coordinates to come here ran through his mind. After Yoda had told Archer where they needed to go and that it was now under the control of Starfleet intelligence, the Captain had taken the two Jedi to Colonel Shepherd to get the stargate address. They needed to make the link between the desert world and Earth's original Stargate Command facility and he had only surrendered it under some protest.

 

“If the gate is active, we should be going with you! Hell, that's part of our primary mission objectives!” He exclaimed when the Captain, Yoda, and he had gone to him for the sequence of symbols that would take them back to Earth.

 

“If what master Yoda says is right, they'll be walking into a classified Starfleet intelligence facility owned by the United Earth government, and not by the old United States anymore.” Archer had reasoned with him. “As a lieutenant in Starfleet, Travis might have a chance to talk his and Yoda's way through without being arrested if nothing's actually wrong. What do you think their reaction will be if a squad of unknown armed soldiers comes through? You won't make it past the stargate itself.”

 

“And if something is wrong?” The Atlantis colonel had asked.

 

Archer looked down at Yoda in a knowing fashion before looking back up at Ronan. “If something like what Yoda suggests is wrong, it may not matter if you took four or forty of your men in. It would be a massacre.”

 

“And you think just these two, uh...” Ronan looked down at Yoda and paused before he said, “guys… these two guys could deal with it on their own?”

 

Without hesitating, Archer responded, “Colonel, I think these two are the only ones now living qualified to deal with what's going on there right now.”

 

It had taken a little while longer after that to mollify the Atlantis soldier, but he eventually handed over the address to Earth. Unsurprisingly, Jennifer McKay had been harder to convince, but in the end she had been given no choice either. The facility was the jurisdiction of Starfleet and the United Earth government. It was Starfleet's job, and therefore the _Enterprise_ crew's job, and not the Atlantis team's to deal with it.

 

The room was darkened except for the blinking lights of several control consoles and computer panels around the room. The centerpiece controls seemed to center around an ancient keyboard and monitor system with an antique hand scanner for security.

 

Six symbols plus one were held frozen on one of the monitors. They were symbols found on the stargate and strongly resembled the address for Earth that he had committed to memory.

 

 _Had someone used the stargate recently?_ He wondered. His instincts were screaming at him that this wasn't good.

 

“Master Yoda.” He called out.

 

Yoda didn't answer, and Travis turned his head towards the rest of the relatively small room, his eyes now adjusted to the dim lighting. Yoda stood near something large and blackened which lay on the floor in the corner of the room away from the windows. As Travis focused on the object, he realized it was vaguely humanoid, and curled up in the fetal position. It looked like it might have been a man once, a man that had been roasted alive.

 

Travis quickly looked away, trying to keep his nausea under control. “Master, I think someone might have used the stargate recently.” He said, looking back towards the monitor.

 

Yoda turned away from the charred body and moved to see what Travis was seeing. He was not encouraged.

 

“Disturbing this is, and unexpected.” The Jedi Master pronounced. “Search the facility we must. Need more information we do.”

 

The two left the control room, and began a search of the underground bunker. In order to cover more ground, Travis went one direction, and Yoda went another. The floor they were on was not overly large as they went from room to room. But all they found was more of the same. The stench of charred flesh hung heavy in the air of the hallways, and remote phase cannons were planted everywhere it seemed. Travis figured out that they had been programmed to shoot at movement. Several were reduced to slag by the lightsaber. Others were ripped off their mounts and smashed against the cement walls by Yoda's command of the Force.

 

“I don't understand.” Travis said as he met up with his master again. “Who would just kill everyone like this? I can still feel their terror in the air.” He shivered. “It's almost overwhelming.”

 

“Feeds the dark side fear does.” Yoda responded. “Gives a Sith lord power creating terror does.”

 

“But how did a Sith lord get here and now? That's what I don't understand. No one really knows about or believes in the Force now, at least not on Earth. There hasn't been a Jedi or a Sith for millions of years as far as I know. Why now? What changed?” Travis asked.

 

“Old knowledge left behind. Into the wrong hands it fell. Dangerous knowledge. Dark knowledge.” Yoda told him. “Remember much of the details I do not. However, remember the consequences all too well I do.” They had been standing in a corridor lined with blackened stains, and Yoda gestured to them as he said this. He then said, “Find the source of this knowledge we must, and destroy it and its disciple before worse things happen.”

 

“Worse things?” Travis asked.

 

“The destruction of a peaceful galactic republic that had stood for a thousand years, over a hundred Jedi masters, knights, padawans, and younglings,” Yoda's voice punctuated each title with no small amount of sorrow, “and the entire planet of Alderaan the rise of just one unknown Sith lord in my time did.” He responded with some pain in his voice. “Your galaxy and world I would spare this fate. Long finished has been our time, the time of Jedi and Sith. Rise again our conflicts should not. The last of the Jedi you are, Travis Mayweather. When done this is, our order and knowledge, die with you they must to protect your civilization. Our memory left to myth and legend must be.”

 

The memory of the events which Yoda spoke of, as depicted in the _Star Wars_ movies he had viewed, ran through his mind and the gravity, and heartbreak of the reality of those events slammed into him in a way that they had never done before. He could feel the Jedi master's pain as he remembered the devastation wrought by the passion driven wielders of the dark side of the Force. He had lost all of those whom had been like family to him, most of whom he had himself raised and trained like his own children for almost a millennium. He had felt the Jedi master's deep pain of being betrayed by one whom he had helped raise like a son. It was deep and sorrowful and began to move Travis to tears.

 

“Appreciate your compassion for my pain, I do, but time for mourning those long dead we do not have.” Yoda chided him, bringing him back to the present. “Come, search upstairs we must.”

 

* * *

 

Daniel viewed the remains of the technicians with deep regret. There was nothing he could have done, he knew, but that didn't make him feel any better about it as he wondered the corridors of his one time home. Memories of his life here filled every twist and turn of the old facility, and now it was marred by death and cold darkness of energy at every one of those turns.

 

He did not follow the two Jedi as they made there way through the remains of what was Stargate Command. There was no point. He could not assist them. And they would soon come to the same conclusion that he already knew by virtue of his ascended state. Neither what nor who they were looking for were here any longer.

 

And that was a bad thing. That was a very bad thing.

 

But there was something worse about the situation that Daniel knew, but neither Travis nor even Yoda did. Daniel had no idea where Wilson had gone, and he had no idea why he didn't know. It was as if the man's mind suddenly just dropped out of existence or became cloaked in some way. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before unless the man had left the Milky Way altogether, and Daniel knew the power requirements for that still didn't exist here, even with the antimatter reactor that Wilson's people, now blackened smudges on the cement, had installed in the old power distribution room. It still required a Z.P.M.

 

No, his disappearance from Daniel's awareness had to do with the holocron's instruction in the dark side of the Force. Wilson had learned how to mask his presence in the Force, and somehow that blinded ascended beings to him as well. With all the power Daniel now controlled, he suddenly felt more impotent than ever.

 

Daniel returned to the gate room. He knew the address to which Wilson had traveled very well. Whether or not it was his final destination, however, he couldn't say. There would only be one way to find out, and he had to leave it up to the two mortals still left alive…

 

No, he realized as he suddenly became aware of another consciousness remaining in the underground base. There were three.

 

Someone survived.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, Master Yoda.” Travis suddenly said, stopping the elder Jedi from entering yet another seemingly empty room. “Do you feel that? Down the corridor.”

 

Yoda paused and reached out with the Force. “Mmm. Life I feel. Afraid but alive.”

 

The two Jedi hurried down the corridor to turn into and through a doorway that looked like some kind of a spartan conference room. In the center of the room was a long wooden table with chairs which had been placed around it.

 

On the walls were modern computer monitors and consoles depicting maps and charts of planets scattered around the galaxy. Computer generated lines connected each world together in a massive galaxy wide network that went far beyond anything humans had explored. It stretched across all four quadrants of the Milky Way.

 

“What is this?” Travis asked aloud in wonder, temporarily forgetting the reason why he entered the room.

 

Yoda briefly glanced at it before turning his attention to an unobtrusive door set into the wall across the room. “A map of the stargate network it is.” He said dismissively.

 

“There must be thousands of them across the entire Milky Way.” Travis remarked.

 

“Yes.” Was all Yoda would answer as he came to stand in front of the door. “In here.” He told Travis, calling the Starfleet officer back to the reason why they were in that room.

 

The strong stench of urine and feces emanated from behind the door. Ignoring it, Travis gripped the doorknob and turned it, swinging the door open.

 

It was a small closet of some kind. It had long since been cleaned out of anything useful. But on the floor of the closet huddled in a fetal position sat a dark haired human woman wearing the blue jumpsuit of a Starfleet uniform. The red trim along the uniform told Travis that she was in a support role, and he guessed she was an engineer.

 

The woman didn't look up at him, but instead continued to stare straight ahead, her face blanched white, her eyes wide with terror. The crotch of her uniform was soaked in yellow liquid, and there was a brown stain coming up from the seat. Travis's eyes looked to the name sewn into the uniform, _Gallardo._ The single pip on her jumpsuit told him she was an ensign.

 

“Ensign Gallardo?” Travis asked gently. His heart was moved with compassion for the terrified woman. Whatever she had seen… He couldn't even imagine what would do this to someone.

 

She didn't respond.

 

He knelt down and put his hand on her shoulder. He poured as much calmness and peace as he could into the Force and allowed it to flow through him and into her own living energy.

 

“Ensign Gallardo?” He asked again, gently.

 

The woman's head snapped towards him, her eyes staring at his face, studying it, but she said nothing.

 

“Ensign, it's okay. We're here to help you.” Travis told her.

 

She spoke, and when she did, her voice seemed weak and raspy as though she had screamed for hours on end, “He killed them.” She said. “He killed them all.”

 

“Who killed them?” Travis asked.

 

Her eyes went blank, and then she focused them on Travis and asked, “Do you believe in the devil, Lieutenant?”

 

“The devil?” Travis asked, the cold feeling returning.

 

“I saw him. I thought it was our C.O. at first, but I was wrong. I was so wrong. Lightning flashed from his fingertips and Sullivan died. And the devil laughed. He laughed with those glowing, pale yellow eyes. And then he waved his hand and the security cannons opened up on all of us. I ran. I ran and hid. But I could still feel him. I couldn't see him, but I knew he could see me. I felt him in my mind.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It was like the more terrified I became, he became more and more powerful. He spoke to me.”

 

“Said what did he, dear one?” Yoda asked gently.

 

“I didn't understand the message, but he said to give the people who find me this message.” She said.

 

“What was the message?” Travis asked.

 

Her tears began to flow freely now as she said, “You have already lost.”

 

* * *

 

The dark robed figure stepped out of the energy pool and onto the ancient stone platform as he surveyed the new world the wormhole had brought him to. In his hand was the handle of a case containing a tablet computer, and three geometrically shaped solids.

 

The new world had a lightly clouded blue sky, and a shining warm sun overhead. Around the stargate platform there were ancient stone pillars which had been erected. Each of the pillars was inscribed in a script he did not know how to read, though the keys to decoding it, among a wealth of other useful data, were contained in the storage unit of the tablet in his travel case.

 

In the area around the platform and pillars there were the trees of a great deciduous forest, and in the sky overhead, two moons were competing with the sun for dominance in the sky.

 

Not far off, he could see the rooftops of a village with cooking fires rising up from brick and mortar smokestacks. And in the far distance, the walls of a much larger city rose up protectively.

 

But for the moment, he was more concerned with the white and gray robed individual whose face wore an expression of reverent confusion. His robes were inscribed with a symbol like a sharp staff with a loop at the top.

 

“Greetings friend.” The man said cautiously, and then he added, “Hallowed are the Ori!”

 

Wilson smiled a wide toothy smile and said in response, “Indeed.”

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

 

Captain's Log: July 4th, 2159

 

_Lieutenant Mayweather and Jedi Master Yoda have returned through the stargate early this morning at approximately zero four hundred hours ship's time with a disturbing report on a mission authorized by myself to investigate what used to be the United States Air Force Stargate Command facility on Earth. They brought with them a survivor, Ensign Gallardo, of what I am told was a massacre of at least twenty if not thirty Starfleet personnel by their commanding officer. The evidence they observed suggests that, for reasons unknown, he rigged phase cannons around the facility and then used them to eliminate the technicians assigned to it. The evidence also suggests that he then used the stargate to escape before Lieutenant Mayweather and Master Yoda arrived. Travis brought back as many clues as he could find in the form of computer data on what the base C.O. was up to and where he might possibly have gone._

 

_What is more disturbing is the evidence observed by Yoda that somehow the missing C.O. has gained knowledge of and control over the dark side of the Force. The Force itself is a mystical energy field whose power I have personally witnessed drag a starship out of orbit and crash it into a planet's surface just by thinking about it. The dark side is when the Force user is driven by negative emotions such as fear, anger, and hatred, and I am told this twists the user's mind dangerously. I am also told that if all of this is true, then Earth and possibly the entire galaxy is in great danger. I have been given no reason as of yet to dispute this conclusion._

 

_Master Yoda himself collapsed upon his return through the stargate this morning, and has been returned to sickbay where Dr. Phlox is examining him. I am awaiting news about his condition._

 

_The antimatter production unit which Commanders Tucker and T'pol, and Dr. McKay have engineered appears to be online and is producing a trickle of antideuterium. Hopefully, within a day we'll have enough to at least make it back to Earth where we can replenish our supply._

 

The morning shift on the bridge was tense as Archer left his ready room to assume his position. He crossed the short distance from his office and sat down in the captain's chair, relieving the officer who had been keeping it warm. A tablet with the data which Travis had brought back was still in his right hand, a mug of steaming coffee in his left.

 

His own mind was filled with more questions upon the report that his helmsman had brought back. He had not as of yet rescinded the lieutenant's leave of absence, and as far as he knew, his helmsman had been in sickbay for the rest of the morning after he had checked in with his captain.

 

He took a sip of his coffee.

 

“Captain? This is weird. I think you need hear this” Hoshi said, her tone of voice concerned, within seconds of Archer's settling in to his chair.

 

 _Isn't that part of our job description now?_ The Captain thought to himself but didn't say. Instead, Archer spun to his left to face his communications officer, “yes, Hoshi?”

 

His communications officer couldn't have been at her own station for more than five or ten minutes. She was scheduled to start her shift at the same time he was, Archer knew, but it was her first time back at her seat since the away mission yesterday.

 

“There's a transmission being broadcast on subspace frequencies coming from the planet.” She told him, worry growing in her voice. “Sir, it's traveling out in all directions.”

 

“A transmission? Let's hear it?” Her Captain asked, knowing that there was no one left alive down on the planet to transmit anything.

 

She put the strange transmission on the bridge's open speakers. It was the recording of a baritone voice repeating a single sentence over and over again in a harsh, gutteral language which Archer had heard far too many times for his liking recently.

 

Hoshi confirmed for him what he already knew. “It's in Klingon, sir.” She said.

 

“What's it say?” He asked, his voice taking on an almost resigned tone, his own face took on an expression matching his tone of voice. He was just about done with Klingons.

 

She listened to it again, and then said, “It's the same message over and over again, sir, 'Earthlings commit sacrilege on Debma'.”

 

“What?” Archer's eyebrows raised in alarm and he asked. “When did we…?” He started to ask, and then realized it wouldn't matter. There was no one he could argue the point with that would matter. Once the Klingons heard this, they would shoot and forget the questioning part. “Never mind. Where's it coming from?”

 

“Sir, it's coming from the ruins. The frequency the message is being broadcast on is the one most used by Klingon vessels as far as we've encountered.” Hoshi told him.

 

Archer's mind kicked into overdrive as the implications of what the Klingon response to such a message might be. He briefly considered firing on the coordinates of the transmission source, then discarded it. _If something hadn't been desecrated before, we would do a proper job of it then, wouldn't we?_ _As if we didn't have enough to worry about._ He thought to himself.

 

He made up his mind and hit the button on his chair for the intra-ship communicator.

 

“Archer to Major Samuels.” He called for the C.O. of the M.A.C.O.s stationed aboard his ship.

 

“Samuels here, sir.” Came the soldier's reply.

 

“We have a problem. Get a team suited up and ready to transport down to the surface in ten minutes.” Archer told him. “I'll brief you at the transporter.”

 

“Very good, sir. Ten minutes.” Came Samuels' crisp reply.

 

Archer closed the communicator, and got up from his chair, tablet left to the side, but coffee mug still in hand. He somehow knew he would need more before this morning was over.

 

* * *

Yoda was dying.

 

Travis could feel it as he sat by the unconscious, legendary figure's bedside in _Enterprise's_ sickbay, and he didn't need the Force to do so. Dr. Phlox's diagnostic equipment didn't add any new information that the helmsman couldn't see with his own eyes or hear with his own ears.

 

The graphical readouts on the computer monitors above and nearby Yoda's head told Travis that his teacher's internal organs were just shutting down. Not from any particular illness or injury, but just because that's what organs do when they reach the extreme old age of nine hundred years old. Dr. Phlox had warned all of _Enterprise's_ senior officers of Yoda's physical frailty, even as the Jedi master's own physical activity over the past week seemed to be calling all of sickbay's diagnostic equipment liars. But now, it was as if they were silently saying, “See?! We told you!”

 

Strangely, Travis felt okay with it. It wasn't like when he had lost anyone close to him before, and Travis _had_ grown close to Yoda in the short time he had known him. They had shared a connection through the Force as master and apprentice that he had rarely if ever experienced with anyone before.

 

Travis contemplated the appearance of his sleeping teacher. There was a peace about the small green alien that told Travis his Jedi master and recent friend was going to be fine if not in this life, then in the next.

 

Standing nearby at a respectful distance, keeping his attention on his monitors, Dr. Phlox remained mournfully silent. Travis knew it could be hard for any doctor to lose a patient. The good Denobulan doctor broke the news to Travis not long after he had returned Yoda to sickbay from being transported up.

 

“I am sorry, Lieutenant, but there's nothing I can do.” He had said with noticeably sincere sorrow in a grave voice. “Even the best medicine can't fight old age, especially aging of this kind.”

 

“That's okay, doc.” Travis had told him. He didn't exactly know why, but the Force flowing through him was moving him to just accept it as what was natural. Like it _should_ happen. “I'll stay with him until the time comes.”

 

“Of course. If you need anything...” The doctor began to say, making the same offer he always did to a friend or loved one when a death was involved.

 

“We'll be alright. Thanks anyway, doc.” Travis had told him, and then he went to sit by Yoda's bedside.

 

He had been there for, what? Two hours? Three? Truth was, he wasn't really sure.

 

“You know, Master Yoda,” He began to say to him. He wasn't really sure if he could hear or would ever know what Travis said at that point, but he needed to say it while he still could. “I never said thank you for what you did. You know, for training me and giving me back… well, giving me back that part of myself I had lost. You kind of helped me find it, and now things make sense again, and I feel complete. So, thank you.”

 

Yoda coughed a little, and his eyes opened to slits.

 

“Master?” Travis asked.

 

“Up my time is.” Yoda said weakly. His voice sounded strained.

 

“You don't need to speak, Master Yoda.” Travis told him.

 

“The last of the Jedi you are, Travis Mayweather. Stay that way it must. Over the time of the Jedi is. Depends on it your galaxy, your future does.” Yoda told him, and then he added gravely, “Stop the Sith Lord you must, or many, many more die will they.”

 

Travis remembered Yoda's words from the Cheyenne mountain complex. He nodded his head. “Yes, master. I will see to it.”

 

“The way of the Jedi this is. Return to the Force I do now.” Yoda said. “Mourn for me do not. Luminous beings are we, not this crude and decaying matter. Always in the Force will I be with you.”

 

“Of course, master.” Travis told him, feeling the truth of his words as the Jedi Master's voice trailed off, and his opened eyes went blank.

 

His own eyes beginning to water, Travis took two fingers and closed his teacher's large, green, open eyes, and it appeared that Yoda was finally asleep for the last time.

 

Dr. Phlox respectfully walked over and stood behind the helmsman, putting one hand on his shoulder in a caring gesture.

 

“I'm sorry, Lieu...” Dr. Phlox began to say, but then was cut short in surprise, his mouth left open.

 

The Jedi master's tiny, pale green corpse began to glow with energy, and then his simple monk's robes were suddenly empty of their burden and collapsed where they lay on the sickbay bed. To the doctor's utter amazement, what looked like a knot of ribbons made of pure light and energy began to rise from where the empty clothing now lay.

 

The energy knot hovered briefly, and Phlox watched with what? Wonder? Anxiety? Reverence maybe? He didn't really know his own feelings at that moment. It was awe inspiring and beautiful to look at. Phlox had been a student of many religious faiths in his life, trying to see the good and the beauty in all of them. Almost all of them had spoken of the soul, many had spoken of an afterlife and of beings of light. Was this what he was now seeing for the first time with his own eyes?

 

Travis nodded at the ribbons of energy and smiled, a single tear falling down his cheek. And then, seemingly having finished everything it intended, it gently rose up and passed through the sickbay ceiling.

 

The doctor's eyes had followed almost with a will of their own, and then as he found himself and the helmsman alone again in the sickbay, he said, his voice quiet and contemplative, “I'll need to report this to the Captain.”

 

“It's okay, doc.” Travis said to him, wiping his cheek with the palm of his hand. “Master Yoda's just returned.”

 

“Returned? Returned where?” Phlox asked.

“To the Force.” Travis responded.

 

* * *

 

The energy being rose higher and higher through the bulkheads of the ship. Much of the knowledge which he had lost in assuming corporeal form returned to him like a flood as his connection to the Cosmic Force met no more of the resistance brought by being confined to the crude matter. The midichlorians had served their purpose well, but he had need of them no longer.

 

“Done, it is.” Yoda said to himself as his non-corporeal form flew from the vessel that remained in orbit around the desert world.

 

“Indeed.” The impression of a female voice hit him.

 

“Uria. A long time it has been since sensed you I have.” Yoda responded calmly.

 

“Indeed it has, Ancient One.” She responded with respect. Yoda sensed that if they had been corporeal, she might have bowed in respect to him. “I trust that you have accomplished what you intended?”

 

It was to her credit, that Yoda sensed no sarcasm or irony from her, though possibly some discomfort. She was younger, much much younger, than he. She had ascended long after the Jedi had evolved into something other than what they had been, during the time of the Alteran migrations. She had since taken it upon herself to be the mouthpiece of the Others.

 

“Yes. No more interference from me there will be.” Yoda told her.

 

“I see.” She responded, and he could sense her sense of respect coming into conflict with her next line of questioning.

 

“What you want to say, say Uria.” Yoda told her.

 

“The Others and I are _uncertain_ as to how to respond to your…” She felt as if she were searching for the right, inoffensive word.

 

Yoda repressed the desire to chuckle at her discomfort. “My what?” He asked.

 

“Ancient One, the rule of non-interference in corporeal matters was one you championed for eons. To my understanding it was a guiding principle that you first proposed and enforced. We don't understand why you have now decided to ignore it. Corporeal beings must be free to make their own decisions.” Uria explained.

 

“Agree with you strongly I do. Interference from us they do not need.” Yoda told her.

 

“So why then…?” Uria asked, confused.

 

“Interfere with their development already we did. Correcting the mistakes we left behind I was. Our battles, our wars, need to fight again they do not. Jedi and Sith. Alteran and Ori. Destroyed much, took many lives they did without meaning to. A chance this galaxy now has without them. In danger that future for them is.” Yoda told her, though she and the Others should have already known his reasoning the second he took corporeal form and woke up from stasis.

 

“So you believed and told the human pilot.” Uria replied, though he sensed some disturbance from her.

 

“Believe my answer you do not?” Yoda asked.

 

“I suppose that depends.” She responded.

 

It might have been amusing to Yoda if she didn't feel so serious. “On what?” He asked.

 

“On your actions from here on. The Others have forbidden Daniel Jackson from interfering any further in this matter. They seek to forbid you as well.” Now she felt almost apologetic to Yoda, as if she didn't want to tell him this.

 

“Need to be concerned they do not. Faith in my last padawan I have. End this he will. For more action from me there is no need.” Yoda told her. Of course, he also felt no need to add that they both knew the Others couldn't stop him if they tried, even combined.

 

Some relief he felt come from her, but still the disturbance of uncertainty remained. “That is good to hear, Ancient One.” She told him. Then she asked, “To where do you travel now?”

 

“To where I wish.” Yoda replied to her politely but firmly. This interrogation of his intentions and actions was over.

 

She received his meaning. “Of course, Ancient One.” And then she was gone, leaving Yoda to contemplate the meaning of the encounter.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 

“Do these symbols mean anything to you?” Archer pushed a tablet computer across his desk, its lit display outlining seven symbols which looked vaguely like Klingon writing he had seen several years before on their homeworld.

 

Across from himself sat Colonel Ronan Shepherd, the leader of the expeditionary team which they had rescued from the planet below them, and the closest thing he had handy to an expert on these symbols and the device on which they were normally found. A fresh cup of coffee had been offered and accepted by the colonel and now sat steaming at his own right hand on the desk.

 

The team he had sent to deal with the offending subspace beacon had reported it destroyed as ordered. His problem now was that, according to T'Pol's logic (and it was usually sound), it had been broadcasting since yesterday before the Klingon had taken his own life. There was almost no chance someone unfriendly hadn't heard it.

 

Archer had also learned of the Jedi Master's… Did he call it a death? From what Dr. Phlox had described, he wasn't sure if that was even an accurate term. Perhaps “passing” was better suited in this instance. The profound implications of the event would ring through his own mind for a long time to come, and he hadn't even been there to see it.

 

At any rate, he had learned of Yoda's passing an hour and a half before, and the repeated warning he had given to Archer's helmsman. Finding the renegade S.I. agent and newly empowered Sith Lord had now become their top priority.

 

Under normal circumstances, he would have sent a message about the bad guy needing to be caught via subspace back to Starfleet Command. Except these weren't normal circumstances. The bad guy in question was one of Starfleet's own, and from what he had learned through Travis, he was the head of S.I.'s black ops section that wasn't even supposed to exist. Archer didn't even have a name to report. His tactical officer, Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed, who had previously worked for the dark S.I. unit didn't even know who this new intelligence handler was. His last contact, Agent Harris, had dropped off the radar for good several years ago. After that, all contact with Section Thirty One had ceased.

 

Further, the operation and facility that the man had overseen would be so classified that he doubted anyone at Command would know what he was talking about, and those that did would deny everything. Barring that, they would tell him to walk away.

 

He couldn't do that. Not this time. Not after nineteen good men and women had been brutally betrayed and murdered by the officer responsible for them. That demanded a response. This monster would be brought to justice one way or the other. Command be damned.

 

That meant _Enterprise_ was on their own in tracking him down as far as Command would be concerned.

 

Hoping his own expertise in astronomy would be useful, he himself had been studying the seven symbols for the last hour before he had asked for the Atlantis soldier's help. He had the symbols displayed on a tablet computer. Having been recently told that they represented star constellations as seen from Earth, he had been trying to use it to cross reference any star constellations which might match them to give him some idea of where it might be. So far though he had hit a wall.

 

About the only good news he had received that afternoon was that Trip, T'Pol, and Dr. McKay had managed to cobble together enough antimatter for the week and a half long warp trip back to Earth from their jury-rigged production unit. It wasn't much, but it meant they were no longer stranded in orbit around the sterile desert world that had proved to be more curse than blessing. That was still something.

 

Colonel Shepherd took the symbols and studied them for a minute. “No.” He shook his head. “I mean, they're obviously a gate address for the Milky Way stargate system, but if you're asking if I know exactly what planet they lead to, then no. I doubt McKay would either.”

 

Archer tried again. The symbols had to be able to be read in some reasonable way, didn't they? “Can you at least tell how far this planet might be from Earth?”

 

“I haven't even memorized all the addresses in Pegasus that we use on a regular basis, Captain.” Shepherd responded. “My team and I are the first ones from Atlantis in over a hundred years that have even set foot in the Milky Way. There were thousands of stargates seeded throughout this galaxy.”

 

Shepherd placed the tablet back on the desk and slid it back towards the captain.

 

Archer let out a sigh of frustration, rubbing his face in his hands and leaning back in his chair. “Well, thanks for looking anyway.” He said, then took another sip of his coffee.

 

“Tough day?” Shepherd asked.

 

“You don't know the half of it.” Archer replied.

 

Feeling some empathy for a fellow command officer, Shepherd then picked up the tablet again and said while looking at it, “I assume your helmsman got this from the old S.G.C. on that mission you said only he and his little alien buddy could handle.” He studied it again. “Why's this address so important?” He asked.

 

Archer briefly debated as to how much to share, and then caught himself. _No, stop it. This is too important now_ _and you can't go to anyone else for help_ _._ Out loud he replied, “I need to find out where this 'address' leads to. The man Lieutenant Mayweather and his, uh... 'teacher' were tracking down escaped to this address. From the report he gave me, if this man continues loose, Earth and possibly the whole galaxy may be at risk. It is vitally important that we find him and stop him.”

 

Ronan suddenly felt like he knew the Captain much, much better. He could immediate respect the man's position. It was one he had been in more often than he cared to think about in his position as Atlantis's chief military commander.

 

He thought for a minute, then said, “ _I_ can't tell you anything about this one except that it's somewhere in the Milky Way. Anything farther would have at least one extra symbol before the point of origin symbol. That's the last one in the address. _But_ ,” He emphasized the word “but”, “back on Atlantis, if we can't use a stargate for some reason and need to get there by ship through hyperspace, we could use the gate coordinates and Atlantis's database to locate exactly where in Pegasus a gate might be located.”

 

“Atlantis's database.” Archer repeated, trying to follow his reasoning. “How does that help us here?”

 

“Just sitting here, it doesn't.” Shepherd responded. “And the truth is it may not help us there either. He could have gated to this address and then turned around and gated to a completely different world to throw us off. Even if we went back to Atlantis and looked it up, this could be an ice world on the other side of the galaxy that you'd only last long enough to dial the gate and walk back through. There's no guarantee that this was his goal.”

 

Archer saw his logic, though to be truthful the tactic hadn't occurred to him. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of traveling between planets being as easy as walking from one room to the next, much less planets two galaxies apart. _And I thought_ hyperspace _technology might obsolete warp drive._

 

“It's still all we've got to go on.” He finally said. “And I may be underestimating this man, but from my understanding he's just as new to this technology as we are. That tactic may not have occurred to him.”

 

Shepherd considered this and nodded. “Okay.” He said.

 

“Will you help us?” Archer asked.

 

“I'll need to contact Atlantis Command.” Shepherd replied. “It may be as simple as sending the data through the gate, them looking it up and replying. It may just amount to a five minute call. But in any event, I'll need to get back to the gate below us and make the call.” He then paused a minute, and added, “Is your helmsman's teacher up for another trip back to the surface to unlock the gate?” He replied. “He looked a little worn out the last time I saw him.”

 

Archer's face took on a frustrated, and then saddened expression as he admitted, “Yoda passed away an hour and a half ago in sickbay.”

 

“Well, that complicates things significantly.” Shepherd said, not unkindly, but in a practical way. “Wasn't he the only one that could get the gate to spin?”

 

“Maybe not.” Archer replied. “He instructed Travis pretty well in his 'discipline'.” He figured that was as good of a word as any for it just then. “From what I've seen the lieutenant's capable of, I don't think it'll be too challenging for him.”

 

* * *

 

The twin suns had risen to full noon, and it felt hotter than ever on the planet's surface in front of the stargate as Travis, Shepherd, and the two other soldiers who had been a part of Shepherd's team were drenched in their own sweat. They had transported down to the planet only minutes before, but it already felt like they had materialized in an oven. This would have to be as quick as possible, and Colonel Shepherd was sincerely hoping it would live up to the five or ten minutes he had told Archer.

 

They had reconnected the zero point module to the stargate as quickly as they could, and Travis stood at a safe distance as he concentrated through the Force on finding the simple lock Yoda had described. Shepherd stood at the dialing pedestal, waiting for Travis's signal to begin entering the address for the stargate on Atlantis in the Pegasus galaxy. The other two men stood scanning the surrounding area for the signs of any possible threat.

 

Travis had one hand outstretched towards the gate, feeling the mechanisms within the great ring as he probed its inner workings. The truth was, he wished he had been given a little more time after his master's passing before being thrown back into the mission.

 

 _But this is what we do_. He told himself. _This is what Master Yoda would want me to do instead of being holed up in my quarters grieving._

 

There. He found it. Yoda was right. It _was_ simple and he was able to deactivate it with ease.

 

“Okay, I've got it.” He said loudly for Shepherd to hear.

 

Shepherd went into motion pressing the large buttons around the pedestal which corresponded to the appropriate symbols on the gate. Within seconds, the seven red chevrons around the gate had lit up, and there came the whoosh outwards and towards them of the familiar vortex which so resembled a rush of water, and then just as immediately it collapsed back into the hole within the great ring, forming the “puddle” of energy which was their connection to Atlantis on the other end.

 

When the wormhole was active, Travis stepped back and released the lock. The gate no longer needed to be able to spin freely. He then stood by Colonel Shepherd as he attempted to radio his people.

 

“Colonel Shepherd to Atlantis Command come in, please.” He spoke into his communicator device.

 

Silence.

 

Shepherd repeated his call.

 

Several seconds later, there came a business-like female voice through his communicator device, “Atlantis Command, go ahead Colonel. What's your status? Have you reached Earth?”

 

“Negative, Command. Things here have become a lot more complicated. I'm transmitting a set of gate coordinates for the Milky Way stargate system. I need to know if there's anything in the database about the planet that stargate is located on.” Shepherd responded.

 

He took out another tablet computer, not one from _Enterprise_ , but one which Dr. McKay had brought among her own equipment, and began pressing his fingers over the screen to send the address through the wormhole to be received by Atlantis's own computers on the other side.

 

“Data received, Colonel. We're looking them up now.” Came the woman's voice. “In what way have things become complicated?”

 

“The old Stargate Command Facility under Cheyenne Mountain has been compromised by a rogue element to the current authorities.” Shepherd responded.

 

There was a pause. Then, “I see.” Said the female voice. “And the address you need information on?”

 

“I'm trying to help resolve it. Like I said, it's complicated. You got anything yet? The sooner I can close this connection and get back to the ship that rescued us, the better we're going to be. The current surface temperature is almost a hundred and forty five Fahrenheit.” He told her.

 

“Understood.” She replied.

 

Beneath their feet, the ground trembled slightly.

 

“What was that?” Shepherd asked. “An earthquake?”

 

The ground trembled again. Then it died down again, but they could still feel some vibrations through their boots.

 

Travis pulled out a scanner device from one of his jumpsuit's pockets. “I'm not picking up any seismic activity on the hand scanner.” Though passively through the Force, he felt something. Something dangerous.

 

Travis pulled out his communicator. “Mayweather to _Enterprise_.” He spoke into it.

 

“ _Enterprise_ here, go ahead Travis.” Came his captain's voice in reply.

 

“We're feeling some kind of tremors down here, but my scanner's not picking anything up. You got anything on sensors?” Travis asked.

 

There was a pause, and then his captain's voice came back, “Sensors don't indicate anything out of the ordinary. What's the tremor like?”

 

“It's just a little bit of rumbling, and now there's this constant vibration like something's moving. And honestly, I'm not feeling like this is a good spot to be in right now.” Travis told him.

 

“Is this one of your special feelings?” The captain asked in all seriousness.

 

“Yeah.” Travis responded.

 

“Has the colonel gotten any info yet on the address?” Archer asked, concerned.

 

“Not yet, it sounds like they're still looking it up.” He told him.

 

There was another pause. “We need that information, Travis. Stay alert, contact us for transport the second you've got what we need.”

 

“Aye, sir. Mayweather out.” Travis responded.

 

He replaced the communicator in it's pocket, and then his other hand rolled around to the side pocket on his thigh where his new cylindrical weapon was kept. He unzipped it, and brought the twenty or so centimeter object out where it rested comfortably in his hand.

 

His eyes closed he reached out through the Force, trying to understand what it was telling him.

 

Travis's eyes snapped open a second later. “We've got to go! Now!”

 

“What!” Shepherd responded in confusion. “Why?! We don't have the data on the address we need!”

 

But they didn't have the time to wait. Travis was convinced of it. Acting purely on instinct, he focused and brought the two soldiers standing guard together and with the force, threw them through the stargate's open wormhole.

 

“What are you doing?!” Shepherd yelled at him.

 

“No time to explain! Just get through the stargate!” Travis said as he ran at the ring.

 

Just then in the open sand not ten meters from the gate, the sand exploded upwards as a monstrous, scaled form rose up from the surface and lunged at the rocky platform.

 

“Right!” Shepherd yelled and leaped through the puddle.

 

Travis was only a meter behind him, and then he too disappeared through the energy vortex.

 

Seconds later the huge, armor scaled creature smashed down on the platform where they had been standing only seconds prior. It's enormous body swung against the upright metal ring and sent it into the sand just beyond with such force that it buried itself. Moments later, the beast finished its work and followed it, digging itself back into the bowels of the desert, dragging the stargate with it.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

Suddenly, Hoshi's constant telemetry from Travis's communicator went dead. Her fingers flew over her console to re-establish contact with the _Enterprise_ lieutenant, but it was no good. It was like he wasn't there at all. Neither were the transponders given to the members of the Atlantis team.

 

“Captain, I've lost contact with the away team's signal!” Hoshi alerted the rest of the bridge crew, though directing it to her captain.

 

Archer already having been on his feet and pacing the bridge, snapped around to face her communications station.

 

“What?! How?” He exclaimed.

 

“I don't know sir, but the signal from Travis's communicator is just gone. The transponders from the Atlantis team members has gone dead too. I can't raise them again. It's like they've just been erased.” Hoshi told him, her voice stressed.

 

“T'Pol?!” Archer turned to his science officer. “What about their bio signs? Are they still down there?”

 

T'Pol already had her eyes rooted in the sensor scanner's head display. As cool and dispassionate as she usually was, after years of working with her and knowing her, Archer could tell from her body language that there was an urgency and tension there as well. After a minute and a half, she looked up and shook her head.

 

“I'm not reading any bio signatures coming from the stargate site, Captain.” T'Pol reported.

 

Archer's mind raced and then, “Can we get an orbital view of the site up on the forward view screen?” They had used the sensors this way before, effectively using the ship like a satellite taking pictures from orbit.

 

T'Pol's fingers flew over the controls at her own station and the image of stars on the forward viewscreen was replaced with a top down, real color, real time picture of the ruins and the stargate site next to them.

 

Even from the distance it was at, they could all tell something was wrong.

 

“Zoom in to the gate platform.” Archer ordered.

 

The image on the screen grew larger, but just as detailed as it came in close to the bedrock outcrop where the stargate and it's dialing device were set up.

 

 _No bodies. That's a good sign, at least._ Archer thought to himself. Then his attention went to where the stargate stood, or at least where it had stood.

 

“Where is it?” Archer asked. “The stargate, where's the stargate?”

 

About five or ten meters from the empty nook where the stargate had once stood there lay the smashed remains of something that looked vaguely familiar.

 

“Zoom in on whatever that is down there.” Archer told her, pointing to the debris.

 

The view focused in again and Archer could see the details of what looked like a red crystal, and panels which held similar symbols to the ones he had seen on the stargate. They lay broken and scattered like someone had taken a sledgehammer to them.

 

“I believe that object is, or was the stargate's dialing device, Captain.” T'Pol reported, her voice attempting to maintain a veneer of dispassion. But Archer could hear the tremor in it. After all these years, he knew her too well.

 

“What the hell happened down there?” Archer asked out loud.

 

When no one had any answers for him, he ordered, “I want to know. Find out.”

 

* * *

 

Travis landed hard on his side from the leap he took. He felt nauseous, and had a brief, vague memory of stars and something like a tunnel. He had a bitter taste in his mouth as he shook his head to clear it. His right hand still held the hilt of his lightsaber. He placed his empty left hand on the ground to push himself up, except it wasn't the hard, rough hewn stone platform they had been standing on. It felt smooth and polished. The air around him felt cool and comfortable with a slight scent of salt as though he were standing on the docks back in San Francisco. After the intense heat of mere seconds before, it began to chill him in his sweat soaked Starfleet uniform.

 

“Don't move!” He heard someone order, and then heard something like several clicks echoing around a large chamber.

 

Travis froze where he was on his hands and knees, his eyes held down at the red marbled floor. He focused on trying to extend his awareness around him. He felt some confusion, but also people responding professionally, in the way they had been trained. There would be no loose cannons. Neither he nor the men he had been with would be in any danger at the moment. No, in fact, he sensed that they were more relaxed here than they had ever been.

 

He wished he could say the same.

 

“Hold your fire!” Came Colonel Shepherd's somewhat dazed yet clearly understandable voice. “He's with me.” The last words came out as mild groan.

 

Around Travis voices began to chatter and people began to speak to the cocoa skinned soldier. Travis could hear their voices. They were speaking in English, though with an accent he didn't quite recognize. They addressed the Colonel with deference and respect.

 

Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up and behind him to see a dark skinned hand, not much different from his own, extended. He took it and was helped to his feet.

 

“Thanks.” He told the man.

 

“No problem, sir.” Came the soldier's response. Except for his black tactical uniform, he didn't look that much different than Travis or his brother.

 

Travis then looked around him in all directions. He was standing in a large chamber next to a stargate similar to the one they had just jumped through, though the symbols were markedly different in that it was far more obvious that they represented star constellations, and the chevrons were blue crystal instead of the red he had seen before.

 

Behind the gate was a long tall stained glass window that had sunlight streaming through it diffused into bright colors. Above and around the gate were arches and architecture that looked both vaguely familiar and alien at the same time. Vulcan maybe? Italian? Some mix of both?

 

As he came around to face the men he had just forced against their will through the active stargate, he saw a grand staircase lit with some kind of a blocky writing that he had never seen before. At the top of the staircase was a large set of bay glass windows with what looked like a control room beyond it. The purple and gray uniformed people beyond it were all staring at him.

 

One of those people, a tall, middle-aged blond haired woman with a clear air of authority about her said something to one of the men seated in the control room and then came out through a side door at the top of the stairs and began her descent down them. The expression on her face was grave, though not unfriendly. As Travis reached out through the Force, he didn't sense any malevolence from her, though she was extremely concerned, and just a touch angry. But the anger was directed at the other man who had just gotten to his feet.

 

“What the hell was that about, sir?” One of the soldiers that Travis had thrown through the gate asked as he rubbed the back of his head.

 

Travis was about to answer when the woman had reached the bottom of the steps and beat him to it.

 

“That's my question, too, Colonel. What right did you have to bring anyone through without authorization? You all were damn lucky we deactivated the iris-shield when we read your R.F.I.D. tags coming through or you all would have been organic sludge by now!” The woman raised her voice. Travis recognized her voice as the woman who spoke to Shepherd through his communicator.

 

“It was my fault, ma'am. I didn't give them much of a choice.” Travis spoke up.

 

“Oh really? And you are?” She demanded.

 

“Lieutenant Travis Mayweather, Starfleet, United Earth, ma'am.” Travis stood up straight and crisp, answering in a professional manner.

 

The woman paused, and Travis could feel the anger drain out of her to be replaced by both some disbelief and curiosity.

 

“You're from Earth?” She asked.

 

“Yes, ma'am.” He answered. He decided it was for the best to leave out the details of the majority of his life aboard starships.

 

The woman then looked to Colonel Shepherd, “Colonel?” She asked.

 

“Travis, meet Samantha O'Neill, governor of Atlantis and the planet Lantea.” Shepherd gestured between the two.

 

“Madam governor.” Travis replied formally.

 

“And for the record, corporal,” Shepherd turned to face the soldier that had asked, “What the _Enterprise's_ officer just did was to save your ass and mine from getting eaten by what looked like a fifty ton armored worm.” He then turned to Travis and said, “Thanks for the heads up.”

 

Travis just nodded. “There wasn't time to call for the transporter. The stargate was our only option of not becoming worm chow.”

 

The governor looked in between the two men with a look of confusion on her face. Then she said, “I'm certain this is going to make for an interesting briefing, Colonel.” She then looked again at the other men who came through. “Where is Dr. McKay?”

 

“She's still back in the Milky Way; aboard the _Enterprise_. Our coming back through the gate wasn't exactly planned.” Shepherd responded. “She's safe. We just need to open the gate again and send a message through to _Enterprise_ and let them know what happened before they break orbit and leave without us.”

 

“Right.” The governor replied, contemplating it. “Of course.” She then touched an earpiece on her right ear and said, “Dial the planet's coordinates again.” She told the control room. To the men around her, she said, “Gentlemen, we don't want to be standing right here at the moment.”

 

They all took the hint and moved away from the front of the gate and watched as the symbols on the gate began to light up.

 

But nothing happened. No vortex. No response.

 

She touched her earpiece again and asked, “What's the problem?” She looked up towards the windowed control room. The uniformed person Travis could see through the window shook his head and said something that he couldn't hear.

 

The lights on the gate spun around again. Six of the blue chevrons lit up again, and then the gate died again.

 

“What does that mean?” Travis asked.

 

“It means things just got a lot more complicated.” Shepherd responded, frustrated. “You may be here a lot longer than you bargained for.”

 

Travis looked to Governor O'Neill for more of an explanation, “What does he mean?”

 

“The control room can't establish a lock on the other gate. Either it's been destroyed or else there's something obstructing the formation of the wormhole like debris or even just dirt.” She responded.

 

“Or sand?” Travis asked, getting a sinking feeling in his stomach.

 

She nodded. “If the gate's been buried in it then, yes. I'm sorry.”

 

“So what now?” Travis asked.

 

“For now,” She began with a controlled, politic expression, “you are our guest and the first representative from Earth we've had in over a hundred years. There are a number of questions we would like answered, and I'm sure you have many of your own. Lieutenant Mayweather of United Earth, welcome to Atlantis.”

 

* * *

 

“There is no organic residue anywhere on the platform, and no trace of our away team.” T'Pol reported. “There is however significant signs of damage and scraping against the surface of the rock by something massive, and most likely moving. The sensors have detected a substantial amount of the material the stargate is made up of buried one hundred and thirty meters below the surface. By my calculations, it is most likely the stargate itself.”

 

Archer ran this over in his head. “You said something _moving?_ ” He asked. “How is that possible if there's no other life forms down there?”

 

“I did not suggest that it was a life form, Captain.” She replied. “Our sensors have detected no bio signs at all on the planet's surface or underneath it.”

 

“Is it possible that there might be creatures down there that the sensors wouldn't pick up as bio signs?” Archer asked.

 

“Many things are possible when the reality of them is unknown, Captain.” Came T'Pol's response.

 

 _Well that was cryptic_. Archer thought to himself. Out loud he said, “Travis said something about feeling tremors right before we lost contact. He said his scanners weren't picking up any seismic activity. You said our sensors weren't getting anything either.”

 

“That is correct.” T'Pol answered.

 

“What about just vibrations in the surface? Do we have anyway of tracking if something's moving under the surface, say down to a hundred meters or so?” Archer asked.

 

“Possibly.” She responded and turned back to her control station, making some adjustments to the sensors. Within minutes she said, “Captain, I've found something. It looks like something very large and in motion three kilometers from the ruins and moving away from them.”

 

“Can you tell how large?” Archer asked.

 

She took another minute, and then said, “By my calculations it's cylindrical, approximately one hundred meters long and ten meters in diameter. And the sensors are picking up similar movement farther away and around the planet from thousands of such disturbances and of similar size.”

 

Archer tried to put together the scattered pieces of the puzzle. “So it's possible then that one of these things could have attacked the gate platform and dragged the stargate back down with it?”

 

“It's impossible to know for certain, but that scenario does fit the data as it stands, Captain.” T'Pol agreed. “But then what does that mean for the away team?” Her voice took on the hint, just the faintest hint, of emotion and Archer understood it to be the deep concern she had for their fellow crewmate. It was like a member of their family had gone missing without a trace.

 

“The gate was open when the attack happened.” Archer tried to reason it out. “They may not have had time to call for transport out.”

 

“But we can't know that for certain.” Malcolm spoke up.

 

“No, but we can sure hope like hell that's what happened. Personally, that's what I'm going to go with until something else turns up to prove it wrong.” Archer replied.

 

Malcolm just nodded. He wanted it to be true too, whatever the odds against it.

 

“But if that is true, with the stargate buried, they will not be able to return.” T'Pol pointed out.

 

“One problem at a time, T'Pol.” Archer said, thinking of all the other problems that had to be solved. “If they've gone through to Atlantis, then they're safe and they've got a working stargate on the other side. We know the gate on Earth is unburied and so does Travis. If he has to get back that way, he can. Otherwise, I've been told there are thousands of gates in this galaxy that he can use. And the truth is, right now he's in the best place he can be. It's his mission now.” He then paused, and added, “And with this Klingon beacon now, we've got ours. We need to warn Starfleet of what's happened and get home for repairs as soon as possible. From what I've seen of Klingons, we may not have a lot of time before they respond. Agreed?”

 

He looked around the bridge, and saw uncertainty about leaving a crewmate behind. But then that uncertainty began to be replaced with understanding and agreement.

 

“That is the logical course of action, Captain.” T'Pol agreed.

 

“Alright, let's get home.” Archer then told the crewman at the helm. “Set course for Earth; as much speed as you can give me.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 

The air was salty and warm, but not too warm that morning, as Travis stood out on the balcony of the guest apartment he had been lent the day before by Atlantis's governor. It reminded him of ocean air of the beaches of California near San Francisco, or, no… more like Jamaica, or the Caribbean on Earth when he had taken spring break there once during his time at Starfleet Academy. The sun shone bright and friendly not far above the eastern horizon in lightly clouded skies. He didn't know exactly what time it was, but he guessed it wasn't quite mid-morning by the sun and the shadows.

 

 _I could have stranded myself in worse places_ , he thought to himself.

 

Beyond the protruding buildings and towers of the floating city, though he had been told there was a large continent somewhere on this planet, the ocean's waters seemed to stretch on forever. He had already felt small at times, contained only within the metal of a starship's hull. But he had grown up with that, and it felt no more imposing to him then a kid's backyard. But this… The ocean was vast, and deep, and powerful. Open space paid no attention to you either way. But the sea… The sea demanded your respect. It could be a sailor's friend, or his grim reaper and in equal measures, and Travis now felt himself at it's mercy as well.

 

 _Now I understand why the ancient sailors took measures to try to keep their sea gods happy._ The thought came. _I wouldn't want to that to be mad at me either_.

 

He wore only the undergarments he had been loaned by the military quartermaster while his own uniform and undergarments were being laundered. The phase pistol he had carried had been confiscated. No one saw the metal cylinder he had been holding in his hand as a threat, so they didn't bother with it, and neither did he offer information about it. His lightsaber lay on the bed not far into the room behind him, along with his other, standard away team equipment which he had been allowed to keep. From what he had been able to see of the technology which was at these people's command, they probably thought his hand scanner and communicator were quaint and archaic.

 

The briefing the day before had been enlightening for both parties as the governor made Travis wait for some time until she could speak to her military commander. After about an hour or so, they brought him into a conference room dominated by a half circle or horse shoe shaped copper and synthetics table.

 

The architecture of the room itself followed the same, cathedral like yet alien architecture of the gate room. It was dominated by green and copper paneling with the same red marble flooring. Computer monitors hung in a couple of places around the terminal points of the half circle on opposite sides of bay windows that looked out over other parts of the city. It looked comfortable, yet also both academic and professional. Like it had been designed by a race of scholars and scientists. Maybe the Vulcans _did_ have something to do with it, he had mused.

 

The governor had politely motioned for him to take a seat opposite Colonel Shepherd, and another man whom Travis had never met.

 

“So, Lieutenant,” the governor began, “Colonel Shepherd here has already told me of his own experiences and the information about the status of Earth and the Milky Way, but I'd like to ask you a few more questions if you wouldn't mind.”

 

Travis didn't hesitate, “I'll answer any questions I can, ma'am.” He didn't sense any hostility from her at all, nor any ulterior motives. His feelings through the Force told him she was a sincere woman with a great burden of leadership on her shoulders. Though… Not just of this city?

 

“Thank you, that will make this so much easier.” She replied. “So, to start with, Colonel Shepherd tells me Earth is now governed by a 'United Earth' government. Can you tell me more about that?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Travis said, glad that the first question would be relatively painless. “Uh, the United Earth government was sort of born out of the old United Nations after First Contact happened in twenty sixty four, almost a hundred years ago now. The governments that survived the Eugenics Wars came together after realizing we weren't the only sentient species out there.”

 

“So, there are no national governments anymore?” She pressed.

 

“Oh no, there are regional national governments, like Britain and the United States of America, Brazil, the United States of Africa, and so on. But they're all subject to the United Earth council.” Travis responded.

 

“So, they're not sovereign nations any longer? And the citizens of these nations are okay with that?” She asked.

 

“No, I guess they're not. Maybe more like the American states were in the late twentieth and early twenty first century.” Travis responded. “And in answer to your second question, yeah, after First Contact, I guess none of us could think that provincially any more.”

 

She paused to consider this. Then she continued. “You mentioned a 'First Contact' now a couple of times. Can you give us more details about that? With whom did you make first contact?”

 

 _Man, every kindergarten kid on Earth and around it knows the answer to that question_ , he thought to himself. “We made first contact with a race called the 'Vulcans'. They're from the 40 Eridani A system, sixteen light years from Earth. That was after a scientist named Zephram Cochrane invented the warp drive and tested his first warp ship at ten A.M. on the fifth of April, twenty sixty three from Bozeman, Montana. They were in a passing ship and detected his warp signature. I guess they had been watching us for some time, and after we got the ability to travel faster than light, they decided it was time to introduce themselves. From there and up until recently they'd been helping us to, uh… _slowly_ ease into the rest of the galactic community. We've got well over a dozen colony worlds out there now, all of them kept in contact by means of warp powered ships.”

 

Travis didn't know if it would be prudent to go into _all_ of Earth's ups and downs with their relations with the Vulcans. _Just keep it at the grade school level, that'll still be new information to them_.

 

“I see.” She seemed genuinely surprised, though she had tried to keep it well hidden, and it felt like she had been expecting a different answer in both the who and the how of First Contact. “And how far out into the galaxy have you been able to go?”

 

“Well, _Enterprise_ , the ship I'm assigned to has been as far as fifty light years out from Earth in the past eight years, but we've got other space exploration ships out there now going even farther.”

 

“Fifty light years?” She seemed almost amused, and he could feel her resisting the urge to add, “is that all?”

 

Travis resisted the urge to get defensive, but did say, “Warp drive does have its limits, but we've covered a lot of space in those last eight years, and made a lot of new friends and allies. Some of whom we've formed a pretty tight alliance with called the Coalition of Planets. Now, they're all in talks to form an interplanetary government similar to the United Earth. The diplomats are calling it a 'United Federation of Planets'. So far it involves us, the Vulcans, Andoria, Tellar, Coridan, Rigel, and Denobula, and I've heard rumors of other worlds wanting to be involved as well. I think we've done pretty well for ourselves with just warp drive.”

 

The governor made eye contact with Shepherd which seemed to suggest something like, “you didn't tell me about that.” His own body language suggested something like, “I didn't know about it.”

 

After another moment's pause, she collected herself again and asked, “You're an officer in something called 'Starfleet.' What is that? A part of the military?”

 

Ouch. Travis didn't like to think of Starfleet that way, and he said so. “I prefer to think of us more as an agency of exploration. Starfleet was born out of the old United Earth Space Probe Agency, formed not long after the United Earth government was. It became Starfleet about twenty years ago now or so. We go out armed, that's true, but it's just to defend ourselves from what's out there.” His mind then turned back to some of their later, more recent missions, and then conceded, “and yeah, when it comes to defending Earth and its allies now, Starfleet's right there on the front lines too providing a command structure for all of our Coalition's military vessels. Like in the war we recently fought with a species called the Romulans. We didn't start it, but Starfleet finished it.”

 

She asked many more questions stretching out for another hour about conditions on Earth, international relations, interplanetary relations, and more until Travis began to feel like he had become a current studies professor to a bunch of elementary school kids. It had never really occurred to him that there could be a group of humans out there that didn't know all of this.

 

Then she said, “Thank you, Lieutenant, for your cooperation. Now, I'm sure you have some questions for us.”

 

The truth was, Travis was exhausted from answering all of her questions, but he tried to shake the tiredness out and ask those questions he thought Captain Archer would ask. “Well, uh, I don't know a whole lot about your people or your history. What is this city? How did you all come to be here a galaxy away from Earth?”

 

“I presume Colonel Shepherd told you about the old Stargate Program?” She asked.

 

“Uh, I heard bits and pieces, but I think he had that conversation with Captain Archer. From what I understand, it was run by the old American government's military using the stargates to travel to other planets without the rest of the world knowing. It's headquarters was under a mountain in Colorado.” Travis replied. He knew about the headquarters, firsthand having been there only days before.

 

“Well, that's a start anyway.” She replied. “The stargates were originally designed and built by a race of humans we now call the Ancients, though most of the humans in our galaxy still call them the Ancestors. They originally came from a distant galaxy across the universe. They first came to the Milky Way galaxy while fleeing persecution for their beliefs from a rival faction called the Ori. They settled on Earth millions of years ago where they built this city and established colonies and cities on worlds throughout the Milky Way.” She spoke this as though she herself was reciting a history that every school age kid knew.

 

“So how did it get here in Pegasus?” Travis asked.

 

“A million years ago there was a plague on Earth that also swept throughout the galaxy,” she continued, “causing the deaths of most if not all of the human populations. In response, those who were unaffected quarantined themselves in Atlantis and launched it from Earth bringing it to this world here in Pegasus where they recovered and seeded this galaxy with human life and populations, expanding their civilization once again until ten thousand years ago when the Ancients went to war with an alien race called the Wraith. While they were technologically advanced, the Wraith outnumbered them. Eventually, they chose to submerge the city to protect it, but it wasn't enough. So the survivors used the stargate to return to Earth where they chose to live out their days. Some of them chose to become teachers of the emerging human populations that had evolved natively. Some of them chose to spend their time in meditation and upon their deaths, ascended.”

 

“Around the year two thousand and three, Stargate Command discovered the gate coordinate for this city, and an expeditionary team was sent to explore and if possible recover it. The members of that team, and other personnel from the original Stargate Command were our ancestors. Eventually, they brought the city back to Earth using the city's own stardrive engines in order to defend the planet from an attack by the Wraith. In the year twenty fourteen, the decision was made to return Atlantis to Pegasus, where the city and we have remained ever since. From their our ancestors re-established contact with the allies they had made during the five years they had been here previously, and a new alliance, a 'Coalition of Planets' as you put it, was formed as well. Eventually, Atlantis and it's resources, much like your Starfleet, came to be the command and control center for that alliance's defensive structure.”

 

Travis tried to take all of it in as she talked, and he knew she was just giving him the short, short version of their history. There was much that she wasn't saying as well.

 

“When what you call the Eugenics Wars began around twenty fifty, most of the ships operated by Stargate Command and the United States Airforce were already conducting missions elsewhere in either the Milky Way or here in Pegasus. The first nuclear attack took everyone by surprise. From what I gathered from my great-grandparents's journals and logs, no one expected Khan to launch a first strike against the United States like that, and one of the first missiles to fall hit Cheyenne Mountain directly. All of the personnel from Stargate Command, and the North American Air Defense Command in the levels of the facility closer to the surface were evacuated before the missile hit. When our ancestors tried to dial the gate back to Earth, they couldn't get a lock.”

 

“Several weeks after that, the half dozen or so of the Daedalus class vessels that were operated by Stargate Command appeared in orbit around Lantea with a story of a devastated Earth. The commander of the first ship to arrive back at Earth told the base commander at the time that the world looked like Armageddon had happened. He hadn't been able to raise any of the command authorities to which they were responsible by that point in time. Washington D.C., the American capital, looked as though it had been erased.”

 

“Yeah, I remember reading about that. It was a bad, bad time to be on Earth from what I remember.” Travis replied.

 

“At the time, the only authorities with any real power appeared to be genetically engineered dictators.” She continued again. “Some of our people, my great grandfather included, wanted to send our warships back to avenge our people on Khan and the rest of the 'supermen' from orbit. Cooler heads than his prevailed. There was a lot of pain and hurt to go around. Our ancestors eventually made the very difficult decision that revealing our existence to to those dictators, even in just offering our aid in rebuilding in the aftermath, would be a disaster not just for Earth, but for the rest of the Milky Way. So, here we remained. Within the year after that, the off-world Milky Way base personnel that Stargate Command maintained were informed of the developments on Earth and relocated here to Atlantis.”

 

“And you didn't send a ship back after that to find out what had become of us?” Travis asked. He tried to understand what would make them just abandon their home world like that.

 

“In retrospect, it was what we should have done.” She agreed. “But my ancestors couldn't make contact through the stargate ever again after that, and even with our hyperspace capable ships, it's still at least a three week journey between Lantea and anywhere in the Milky Way. They focused on rebuilding their lives and establishing relationships and a governing structure here. They didn't think that there was anyone left behind to save. They chose to mourn what they had lost, but to live the lives they still had.”

 

Travis now stood pondering that explanation as he felt the warm sunlight on his skin and took in the sea air. Below him on the main avenues and byways of the city, he could hear the sounds of children playing. Couples were talking. There were vendors of some kind offering snack foods from carts moving through the walkways. For a brief minute, if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine himself back at Starfleet headquarters in San Francisco.

 

The briefing had gone for several hours as both sides were brought up to speed and Travis continued to ask questions, and then the subject came around to the mission he and Yoda had undertaken and why. In that, Travis had to call to his mind every memory he had just recovered of the _Enterprise's_ mission to the time and galaxy that had been native to Yoda.

 

He had received several disbelieving looks from Governor O'Neill who frequently looked to Colonel Shepherd for confirmation. He continued to nod his head to her in all seriousness, confirming everything Travis told her.

 

“Master Yoda told me what happened to his own interplanetary government when just one Sith Lord had gone unnoticed by those responsible for preventing his rise. And we both know, Madam Governor, what happened when evil men were left unchecked on Earth in the mid-twenty first century. I can't let that happen. I'm not asking you to believe in the Force or any of it. But I am asking for any help you can give me in finding this man and stopping him.” He had practically pleaded with her.

 

At this, Colonel Shepherd spoke up as well but in a more familiar way with the Governor. “Jennifer's still back there too, Sam. And we still don't leave our people behind.” He had then locked eyes with Travis and said, “Any of our people.”

 

Travis understood. _Enterprise_ had a real ally in the Colonel. He didn't need the Force to sense that.

 

“No. We don't.” She agreed. After a moment's pause, she then said, “Thank you, gentlemen. It looks like I have some decisions to make.”

 

 _And so do I._ He thought as he stood on the balcony in his white undershirt, shorts and dark skinned, bare feet. Then the door chime went off.

 

“Yeah, just a minute!” He called out as he came back into the apartment and pulled the green pair of trousers he had been given from a coppery green dresser next to the bed. He hastily got into them, covering over the undershorts he wore.

 

 _Well, at least that's a little more presentable._ He thought to himself.

 

The doorbell chimed again.

 

“Coming!” He called out again.

 

On the other side of the door, he could sense Ronan Shepherd's presence as he came up to it and put his hand to the plate which would open the door. It slid open noiselessly.

 

“Hey, can I come in?” Colonel Shepherd asked.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Travis responded, and the military commander, dressed in a decidedly unformal tan polo shirt and blue denim trousers came into his apartment.

 

“Did you sleep okay?” The colonel asked, trying to keep things friendly, although Travis could sense that there was more he had to say.

 

“Yeah. Everything was fine.” He responded. “What's new?”

 

“I thought you might like some company for breakfast this morning.” Shepherd responded. Then he added, “And I have news.”

 

“Oh?” Travis asked.

 

“We got a positive match on the gate address you brought back from Stargate Command. It's a world they called Hebridan.” He told him.

 

“Okay.” Travis said. “And?”

 

“And it was a technologically advanced world at the time our ancestors made contact with it. But not long after that, it was conquered by the Ori. The population that refused to convert was decimated. After that, Earth lost contact with them around two thousand and four.”

 

“The Ori? Who's that?” Travis asked, not understanding the reference.

 

“I'll fill you in later. But for now what you need to know is that this guy chose a planet that, at least in time past, might've see him as some kind of a religious figure or maybe even a deity if he has anywhere close to the abilities you described.” Shepherd told him. “It might also still have some of that advanced technology laying around, even a hundred and fifty years later.”

 

“The _General Landry_ , one of our battle cruisers just entered orbit around Lantea. They'll be landing on the east pier in about an hour to resupply.” He told him. “We're both going to be on it when it leaves.”

“Where is it taking us?” Travis asked.

 

“Earth, by way of Hebridan.” Shepherd told him. “It's a three week trip, but it's the best we can do. Hebridan's in the part of the Milky Way you call the Gamma Quadrant.”

 

“Can't I just use the stargate to get there?” Travis asked. A three week delay seemed like an eternity.

 

“We've still got to go get Jennifer back, and we don't know exactly where _Enterprise_ is going to be right now. We can't make contact with the desert planet's stargate, and we don't know if Earth's stargate is still secure. And if this guy's as dangerous as you say, you'll need back up. To that end we'll be joined by another ship coming in for resupply around noon as well. If all goes according to plan, we'll be on our way after dinner.” He paused, and Travis could feel some kind of irony coming as Shepherd mentioned the second ship. He then added. “Like I said, we don't leave our people behind.”

 

Travis took a minute to process this. “Okay.” He finally said, picking up his lightsaber from the bed and slipping it into the pocket of his trousers. “Let's do this.”

 

“But first, breakfast.” Shepherd said. “There's a great little Athosian restaurant over near the landing platform on the east pier I want to show you. Some of the best seafood you've never had.”

 

Travis smirked as he sat down on the bed and pulled on a pair of white socks, study leather boots and a tan polo shirt which matched Shepherd's own. After he pulled the shirt over his head, he remembered the feeling of irony he got when Shepherd mentioned the second ship and he had to ask, “Colonel, what's the name of the second ship?”

 

Shepherd smiled and said, “ _Enterprise.”_

 

A big grin spread over Travis's face. “I guess some traditions just don't fade away, do they.” He said.

 

“Nope. Let's go eat.” Shepherd said.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 

Captain's Log: July 18th, 2159

 

_Enterprise has arrived in Earth's solar system after two weeks of hobbling along at warp three point five and we are putting in for repairs to our port nacelle and a replenishment of our antimatter storage tanks. Commander Tucker tells me that the full repairs shouldn't take more than a day with the space dock's resources._

 

_After having informed him via an encrypted subspace message of the incident with the Klingons two weeks ago, I have a face to face meeting with Admiral Gardner about it. I can't say I'm looking forward to that. It feels a little like it did when I was called to the principle's office in second grade. I think part of it is that he hasn't actually responded to our communique since we sent it, so we've been completely in the dark about what's going on since then._

 

_After much personal debate, I've chosen to report nothing about the rogue S.I. officer, or the incident in the Cheyenne Mountain facility; at least not yet. I honestly don't know who to trust on this yet, and if my gut feeling is right, no one at Command will even admit to its existence. I wish Admiral Forrest was still here. I might even settle for Soval at this point, but he's still deep in the Federation talks, and I don't want to do anything to distract him from that._

 

_And then there's what to do with Dr. Jennifer McKay who was left stranded on Enterprise after what we continue to presume was the return of the rest of her team to Atlantis in the Pegasus galaxy taking Lieutenant Mayweather with them. Except for a couple of incidents involving chef's choice of lemon chicken for the mess hall, she's been settling in with Enterprise's crew as well as can be expected. But now that we've arrived at Earth, where does she go from here?_

 

The sun shone down fiercely in the heat of the mid-summer, coastal Californian day. Slowly but surely, the damage from the last century's love affair with fossil fuels and nuclear bombardment was correcting itself. Earth had come so close to the brink of no return, that, given everything else humans tended to complain about Vulcans for, no one on Earth ever complained about the Vulcan “interference” in helping to bring it back. Environmental scientists were projecting that it would take at least another century before global temperatures stabilized, but at least they would stabilize.

 

Under other circumstances, Jonathan Archer might have enjoyed it in a tee-shirt and shorts either walking the San Francisco docks or finding a nice quiet beach with a chair and a good book to go with it. But Captain Archer had other business to attend to that couldn't wait as he entered Starfleet Headquarters' main building where Admiral Gardner waited for him.

 

Those within the building that recognized him gave him mixed looks of either respect, in the case of the more senior personnel and officers, or awe, in the case of several junior officers and a few cadets working as interns. The former he could tolerate, though there were more times than not that he wondered whether or not he really deserved it; but the latter truly made him feel uncomfortable. A pedestal was no place he wanted to be; not after the kinds of things he had been forced to do to accomplish his missions. It irked him that he couldn't escape it unless he was at least fifteen light years away from his home world.

 

He nodded politely and gave a grimaced smile to both kinds of people that he passed as he headed up the stairs to the Admiral's office at the end of the second floor hallway.

 

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the Admiral's door.

 

“Come in, Jon.” Came Admiral Gardner's voice.

 

 _Yep, just like Miss Devonwood's office in second grade._ He thought to himself as he let himself in.

 

“You wanted to see me in person, sir?” He asked deferentially. He and Gardner were both test pilots in Starfleet's original “X” program testing the latest warp engine designs (and surviving the aftermath), and had known each other for over twenty years. Gardner could have ended up Captain of the _Enterprise_ just as easily as he had (he would have if Soval had originally had his way), and it could have been Archer sitting in the Admiral's chair instead.

 

Gardner could keep the office and the extra bar on his uniform. Archer liked _Enterprise's_ chair just fine.

 

“Take a seat, captain.” Gardner told him. His voice betrayed nothing of what was going through his mind, making Archer that much more wary.

 

Archer did as he was told. He looked around the office as he did so. It didn't look that much different from when it had been Admiral Forrest's office, except the people in the small picture frames on the desk were different. Behind the Admiral's chair, the Golden Gate bridge could be seen in the distance through several windows.

 

When he was settled, the Admiral called up a computer monitor next to his chair and behind the desk. “What I'm about to show you is highly classified and need to know, Jon. I couldn't take the risk of any response message back to _Enterprise_ being intercepted by a clever news crew, or worse. After all the anti-alien sentiment we've fought against over the past several years for the diplomats to bring the Federation talks this far, we really don't need this getting out just yet.” He began evenly. “A week ago, _Columbia_ took these sensor readings near the desert world where your crewmen encountered the Klingons.”

 

He hit a few places on his desktop, and the monitor showed half a dozen small blips against a background of stars orbiting a circle meant to represent a planet. Each one of them was represented by the emblem of the Klingon Empire.

 

Archer studied the display. Six Klingon ships had responded to the beacon. _Well, it's not as bad as it could have been._ He thought to himself.

 

Then Gardner's fingers tapped his desk again. “These readings were from two days ago.”

 

Where once there had been only six blips, now there were dozens.

 

“They're massing,” Archer stated the obvious, “for an invasion?”

 

Gardner nodded. “I can't see that they're just there for a confab.” His voice tinged with sarcasm. “What's worse is that we don't actually know what the Empire's total fleet strength is, but we do know they've been space faring for a lot longer than we have, so it's a safe assumption that no matter what we'll be outgunned. And with what we believe the Klingons' current level of warp technology to be, they can be at Earth's doorstep one week from today.”

 

Gardner then took a deep breath and let it out tensely. “I have just one question for you, Jon. Did you have any idea that this world meant anything to the Klingons when you sent an away team down?” His voice betrayed a frustration that bordered on anger being kept in restraint.

 

“No.” Archer answered flatly, not a little offended. Gardner should have known better than to ask that. “We only entered orbit in response to a distress call we received. A group of explorers that we emergency transported to sickbay. After they were well enough, we sent an away team to recover their equipment. That's when the away team ran into the Klingons. From the report I was given, the Klingons attacked first. My people defended themselves. We had no way of knowing that this planet meant anything to them. It's not even within recognized Klingon boundaries.”

 

For all intents and purposes it was the truth. It just wasn't _all_ of the truth. He still hadn't informed Command of the nature of _Enterprise's_ guests, and he didn't think now was the right time to do so either. Not when there were such larger issues at stake.

 

Gardner took another breath and let it out in a sigh. “The Klingons don't seem to understand the meaning of 'territorial boundaries'. It doesn't seem to matter now anyway. Because of the actions of your crew, intentional or not, Earth is now facing an imminent attack by the Klingon Empire. I don't have to tell you that we don't yet have the fleet strength to repel it, not on our own. I've been in high level talks with my counterparts across our new Coalition, and while the Vulcans, Andorians, and Tellarites are willing to help defend us, they all agree that no one is walking away from this without mass casualties. Hell, Jon, even if we win this fight. If this planet was somehow sacred to them, then you've pissed them off to the point that there's every possibility they'll just keep throwing resources at us until we buckle.”

 

Archer could only nod. There was really nothing he could say. There was a verbal reprimand in the Admiral's voice, and with it Archer wondered if he should just leave his Captain's bars on the desk when he left, or if there might be something more public.

 

“You can keep your captain's chair if that's what your wondering. I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same thing and still gotten all of us into this mess.” Gardner told him. “But we're going to need a command vessel to coordinate the Coalition fleet in the defense of Earth. There's no captain in Earth's Starfleet that the Coalition fleet commanders trust more than you, Jon.”

 

Archer understood. “ _Enterprise_ caused the problem, and we have to be a part of the solution.” It wasn't a question, just an acknowledgment of the facts.

 

“You'll rendezvous with the rest of our fleet around Jupiter as soon as your ship's repairs are complete.” Gardner nodded. “Starfleet ships will begin regular patrols using Pluto's orbit as a reference point. They'll be augmented by Coalition resources as they are made available to us.”

 

“That's a large patrol area.” Archer remarked thinking about the distance that would have to be crossed. It could take almost an hour at best at warp five for one patrol ship to cross the diameter of Pluto's orbit to reach one another if they were spread thin, and Archer knew they didn't have the fleet strength to cover the entire spherical area.

 

“Well, they could choose the direct route, which would put them within a million kilometers of Pluto's current position in orbit, or they could come around and enter from any of the other thousands or so of points. It's a big solar system. We really don't have a lot of options at this point.” Gardner told him.

 

Archer studied the face of his commanding officer. Gardner looked exhausted. There were bags under his eyes. He looked as though he had aged ten years since the last time he had seen him, and the man was only a year or two older than he.

 

“Understood, sir.” Archer said.

 

“Good. Then you're dismissed, Captain.” Admiral Gardner told him. Then his expression softened and he added, “Good luck, Jon; for all our sakes.”

 

* * *

 

The view from the mess hall window reminded Travis of an aurora effect like the northern lights on Earth, except it was moving insanely fast. After two weeks, he had kind of gotten used to it, but it still didn't feel right. His heart kept telling him there should be stars streaking by out those windows.

 

The entree on the tray in front of him resembled salisbury steak with gravy and a side of vegetables, except he wasn't sure exactly what kind of meat his lunch consisted of, or the vegetables for that matter. That wasn't a big deal, he'd eaten plenty of mystery meals growing up on a cargo ship warping from planet to planet. As long as it was at least edible he could get through it. It sure wasn't chef's cooking though.

 

Two weeks in space and he literally had nothing to do. Growing up, there were always jobs to be done around his parents' ship, the _Horizon,_ and he was the chief helmsman aboard the _Enterprise_. This was the first time he'd ever been aboard a ship for this long without some kind of a job in maintaining that ship.

 

It was almost driving him nuts.

 

Sure, a couple days with nothing to do, yeah, that could be relaxing. Granted, there was a murderous, maniac Sith waiting for him at the other end, but still. But three weeks?

 

What was worse was it was the first time he had really been given time to process everything that had happened to him. And while Yoda wasn't really dead, it was the first time he had to process the loss of his mentor. And it was a bigger blow to him than he realized it would be.

 

The whole prospect of being a Jedi, the _last_ Jedi for that matter, was a lot scarier now that he was alone. When he really thought about it, the enormity of the task that lay on his shoulders was almost crippling, and for the first couple of days as it sank in, it almost did cripple him.

 

Colonel Shepherd, Ronan, seemed to be handling it a lot better, although he made frequent visits to the bridge to consult with the _Landry's_ commander, a Colonel Hawthorne. Travis had learned the name of the commander of Atlantis's _Enterprise_ was a Colonel Ellis, and that there was some kind of a military tradition of ship's commanders in his family dating back to the old “Daedalus” class vessels the United States Air Force operated a hundred and fifty years prior.

 

Travis had learned these two vessels were built about twenty or thirty years ago by Atlantis's Coalition using a hybrid of Ancient “Aurora” class and Earth's “Daedalus” class designs. The resulting ships resembled something like pictures he had seen of the humpback whales that used to live in Earth's oceans, except these whales were steel gray and copper and had port and starboard hanger bays for smaller space and atmospheric fighter craft he had heard referred to as “F-502”s. Ronan had told him that their Coalition of Planets operated a fleet of thirty such vessels that defended their worlds from the predations of the hostile vampiric species they referred to as the “Wraith”.

 

After the first couple of days, Travis took to staying in the quarters he was sharing with Ronan except for meals. There were some books and video entertainment screens in the cramped quarters, and he tried to keep himself occupied with that for a time, but his mind kept coming back to weight of the responsibility with which he had been entrusted.

 

By the third day, Ronan asked if Travis wanted to spar with him in the ship's gym, and Travis accepted, thankful for something physical to do to take his mind off of things. When they had gotten out on the mat, Ronan had gone to a rack on the wall and selected two synthetic composite practice swords, then tossed one of them at him to catch it.

 

“Sword combat?” Travis had asked. “That seems a little out of place with all this technology around us.” And it did, given that some of the technology seemed light years ahead of even his own _Enterprise_.

 

“If I've learned anything running operations through the stargate, it's that you can't always rely on technology or a technological advantage. A lot of the worlds in Pegasus are still medieval at best. Sometimes in a fight, all you've got is the nearest piece of wood or metal and you've got to make do. My ancestor, John Shepherd, became a master of sword combat when he was Atlantis's military commander sparring with my great-grandmother and one of his best friends, the man I was named for.” He had responded. He then asked, “And aren't you supposed to be using some kind of a laser-sword or something? At least that's the way it was in the old movies. You still need to keep up those skills, don't you?”

 

“Right. Okay.” Travis admitted. “I guess I can do this then.”

 

At first, Ronan went easy on him as they sparred with wooden practice weapons and Travis got used to them, letting his muscle memory do the work. He was able to counter every blow, but the weight of the weapon was still somewhat unfamiliar.

 

“Good,” Ronan encouraged. “But I know I saw you do better.”

 

Then the colonel's attacks really came in earnest, and Travis was forced to deflect them faster and faster. It wasn't long before he couldn't, not on his own, and he felt the bruises that proved it to him.

 

“What happened?” Ronan had asked him after they had stopped. “I saw you cut through those Klingons like they were standing still.”

 

“That was the Force, not really me.” Travis had told him, panting from the exertion.

 

“So, buddy, what do we have to do to get the Force to do it again?” Ronan asked. “Because you know this Sith Lord's not going to just leave bruises.”

 

 _He's right_. Travis thought to himself. _What have I been doing all this time?_ He closed his eyes, and opened himself up to the living Force around him, and everything seemed to slow down as his awareness expanded.

 

“Let's do it again.” He told him. “And this time, don't hold back.”

 

“That's what I wanted to hear.” Ronan told him, and then he unleashed composite bladed fury on Travis.

 

Since then, Travis's daily routine had consisted of meals, meditation in the Force in his quarters, and sparring as Force meditation with Colonel Shepherd in the _Landry's_ gym. In that time he had gotten to know a lot about the people and worlds Shepherd lived among and in. It was good to have him as a friend, and Travis got the sense that he was the kind of man where once you were his friend, he'd go to hell and back for you if you needed him.

 

He took another bite of his lunch as he continued to look out at the hyperspace vortex. He had been told that they had passed through the void between galaxies several days ago, although he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference just looking out the window. These ships didn't even have to stop to take sensor readings of where they were in hyperspace, they were so advanced.

 

 _And Earth had this technology a hundred and twenty years before I was born_.

 

That thought truly boggled his mind. How could they have kept it out of the public's knowledge for decades even? When the Vulcans landed, it seemed like the whole planet knew within the month. The U.S. government and its allies made off-world alliances and operated the entire stargate program, a fleet of hyperspace capable ships, and a functioning military base in another galaxy all with ninety-nine percent of Earth's population completely oblivious for almost fifty years.

 

_How does that happen?_

 

“This seat taken?” Ronan's voice asked him, and Travis was pulled out of his thoughts.

 

“Go right ahead.” Travis said. Ronan always seemed to ask that, even when he knew Travis was just waiting for him.

 

The Atlantis soldier set his tray on the table opposite Travis and sat down. Travis looked at the man's plate. It had the same entree on it that his own did.

 

“What is that meat anyway?” Travis asked, wondering if he really wanted to know.

 

“It's called a… well I'm not sure what it's actually called, but think of it as a cross between one of Earth's camels and an iguana and you've sort of got the right picture. You get used to it.” He told him. Then he added after a swallowing a mouthful, “there's a reason why I took you to the seafood place on the east pier back home.”

 

Travis smiled at that memory. It _was_ good. They had some kind of a savory lobster like meal for breakfast that day. It was spiced sort of like a mix between cayenne pepper and citrus. It had been good eating that morning.

 

After another bite, Ronan said, “Listen, I've been thinking.”

 

“About what?” Travis asked.

 

“Why'd this guy go off-world? If his plan was to screw with Earth first somehow, why plant himself halfway across the galaxy where he wouldn't even know what was happening on Earth, and he knew no one from your world could touch him? Hell, as far as he knows, there'll be a contingent of trigger happy marines or whatever Starfleet has waiting for him if he steps back through the stargate.” The colonel told him.

 

“Okay, so if he's not going to plot an overthrow, what do you think his plan is?” Travis asked. “Somehow start building an army of his own?” The whole overthrowing the government thing had been his operating assumption. Wasn't that a bad enough reason to go get him?

 

“Well, the other thing is, according to the database, this world was so devastated by the Ori, there was hardly anyone left to operate all the technology they left behind. Even after a hundred and fifty years, there still might not be enough people left to raise the kind of army he'd need, even if they followed him around like some sort of long lost divine prophet.” Shepherd continued.

 

“Okay, so hostile takeover isn't his game. What then?” Travis asked.

 

“I was thinking about what you told me about Yoda's 'passing'. To me, it sounded like he ascended.” Ronan explained. “And from what you said, and from what I remember from the old movies, it wasn't the first time. From the little bit of digging I did, it sounds from that whole series like Yoda was supposed to have been the first one to have manifested himself in the Force after he died, and he taught others to do the same before he did.”

 

“Yeah.” Travis admitted. “Okay. I'm with you so far.”

 

“Well, who's to say that just the Jedi were able to do it?” Ronan told him.

 

“What do you mean?” Travis asked, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

 

“I've told you about the Ori, right? In my ancestor's time they were a group of ascended beings that posed as gods and tried to force everyone either through deception or by threat of death to worship them. They learned how to do it the same way the Ancients, the 'good guy' ascended beings did. It's driving me nuts that there might be some kind of connection there.” Ronan finished.

 

Travis's mind raced with everything they had learned about Yoda's people, the Jedi and the Sith, and with the things he had learned about the Ancients and their origins and things began to fall into place a little too well.

 

“So what are you saying? He went there to somehow learn to ascend and become some kind of a deity?” Travis asked, trying to wrap his mind around it. “That's crazy.”

 

“Welcome to my world. But unless we can come up with a better explanation of his plans, then yes, and the threat this guy poses is to more than just Earth and possibly more than just the Milky Way. And if that's so, we've got to be careful before you just go and take off his head. That may be exactly what he's planning on.” Ronan told him gravely.

 

Travis considered this for some time. It felt like the truth somehow, yet it was so incredible to believe.

 

“So what do I do then?” He asked.

 

“Well, I've been thinking about that too. I've got a plan, but it's going to require that you trust me completely.” Ronan told him, and then he explained to him his plan.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

 

Captain's Log: July 24th, 2159

 

_After receiving word that the Klingon fleet left the planet the beacon referred to as Debma' five days ago, Enterprise continues on it's patrol orbit within the vicinity of Neptune's current position, which just happens to be just beyond Pluto's orbit during this time of its revolution around the Sun. The closest ship patrolling near us is the NX-03 Challenger, under the command of Captain Yumiko Inuyasha. Her patrol zone is about five minutes from us at warp five._

 

_We've been running battle drills every day since we received the report of the inbound Klingons, but for the most part it's just been a lot of tense waiting. Commander Tucker tells me it feels a lot to him like when he was a kid and there was a bad hurricane coming in from off the Atlantic. Our scout ships tell us they will reach our solar system some time within the next forty eight hours._

 

_Starfleet has a total of five NX class ships and six of the new Ares class battleships developed during the war with Romulus on patrol loosely around the circumference of Pluto's orbit, with another dozen Vulcan, Andorian, and Tellarite ships on loan to us to make up the difference. It might have been more if the Coalition wasn't already spread so thin to patrol the newly agreed upon Romulan Neutral Zone. This would be just the opportunity the Romulans need to launch a sneak attack against Vulcan, Andoria, or Tellar for that matter._

 

_Damn, we just got done fighting a costly war. Why did this have to happen now?_

 

_Yesterday, I received word from Admiral Gardner that might be considered good news of a sort. According to Soval and the Vulcan ambassadors sent to mediate between Earth and the Klingons, the Klingon High Council hasn't officially sanctioned the attack on Earth, though they're doing nothing to stop it. Apparently, the less devout members of the Council don't officially consider a ball of sand and desert to be worth the trouble to fight over. The ships that are being sent against Earth belong to an alliance of wealthy families loyal to their emperor cult's priesthood. No doubt one of them is the family of the Klingon who set up the beacon in the first place. It's small comfort, but it means that if we're able to turn them back, there won't be any further threat from the Klingons, at least not for the moment._

 

_Right now, however, that's a big “if”. The last count Columbia got on the number of vessels before Captain Hernandez had to join the rest of us was upwards of fifty Klingon warships, and that was a day before they broke orbit. Her vessel's now patrolling the region outwards from the Sun's northern pole._

 

_No matter where the Klingons hit us from, none of us may have enough time to intercept them before we lose one of our own ships. The Solar system's just too damn big to guard all of it, but we can't just pull the net in tighter and abandon those research stations and colonies past Jupiter either._

 

_It's times like this when I truly question my choices in answering every distress call. Even compassion can have unintended consequences for everyone. But then, could I really live with myself if I didn't?_

 

* * *

 

The bridge of the Atlantis Coalition Warship _General Landry_ would have been instantly recognizable to any of of the commanding officers of it's Earth built predecessors rather than those of the Ancient Lantean warships. Efficiency and function were still preferred by the military over form.

 

Colonel William Hawthorne sat in his command seat reading reports. Forward of him, and to his right and left, the officers at the operations and helm stations were focused on their displays.

 

 _As they should be._ Hawthorne thought to himself, as he scrolled through the display of a thin computer tablet.

 

Then from in front of him and to the right, he heard the even toned voice of the sandy haired operations officer on duty. _Fredrickson_ , the Colonel thought to himself.

 

“Colonel Hawthorne, sir, you may want to see this.” The _Landry's_ Operations officer informed him.

 

The middle aged, heavily tanned commanding officer rose from his seat and, taking a couple of steps, bent over his officer's work station. “Okay,” he said to him, “now tell me why I'm looking at your display, lieutenant.”

 

The colonel's voice was rough and no nonsense. He had been a military man for going on three decades of his life, most of those spent on warships not far different from the one he now commanded, protecting not only his own home world of Lantea from a resurgent Wraith threat, but also the rest of the Pegasus Coalition.

 

“Sir, I'm receiving data from the long range sensors as we're passing within two hundred light years of Earth's solar system.” The lieutenant coolly pointed to the readouts and graphical information on his screen. “According to those sensors, there are fifty eight vessels on a direct course for Earth originating from a planet the database is identifying as P3X-458, about twelve light years from Earth.”

 

“Fifty eight vessels?” Hawthorne asked. “That's a lot of ships for just regular interstellar traffic.” He said almost as if wondering aloud. It wasn't the first time they had picked up alien interstellar traffic since entering the Milky Way, but most of it was single ships heading elsewhere. This was the first time they'd seen anything heading towards Earth's position.

 

“Any idea what kind? Cargo ships, warships, refugee convoy?” He pressed.

 

“No sir, the long range sensors can't be that specific from this far away.” Fredrickson replied.

 

 _So, cargo convoy or invasion force._ “What's their ETA?” He asked.

 

“Thirty six hours at present speed, sir.” The con officer reported.

 

“Damn, that's slow.” Hawthorne remarked. “What're they doing, crawling there on their hands and knees?”

 

His lieutenant smirked. “They're apparently using some kind of space warping propulsion system for FTL travel if I was to make an educated guess.”

 

“And just how would you know that?” Hawthorne asked skeptically.

 

“I did my thesis on experimental Lantean propulsion systems, and there's always a certain plasma signature left behind with the space warping drives.” The lieutenant answered, and then he pressed a few places on his touch screen countrols and brought up another sensor image which resembled something like a comet's trail to the rear of the fleet in motion. “This plasma trail strongly resembles what the Ancients described, sir, and it's similar to many of the other interstellar ships we've been able to take sensor scans of en route. This technology seems to be the dominant form of FTL travel that we've encountered so far.”

 

 _Clever man. Wonder why he's up here in a combat seat and not down in engineering or back in Atlantis thinking up something else new and clever. I'll have to make some inquiries_. Hawthorne thought to himself.

 

“Just a hypothetical question, how long would it take for us to reach Earth's solar system from our current position and heading?” The colonel asked.

 

“Twelve hours in hyperspace, sir.” Fredrickson replied without missing a beat.

 

 _Definitely have to make some inquiries._ He thought again.

 

Then, after he turned the information his officer gave him over in his mind a few times, he turned to his communications officer and said, “Jolie, get me Ellis on _Enterprise_. We may need to make a detour near Earth on our way to Hebridan to check something out. And someone get that Earth officer, uh, Lieutenant Mayweather up here. I may need a little more information about what to expect from the locals. I suspect he hasn't told us everything yet.”

 

* * *

 

“Alright, Lieutenant, I'm told there are almost sixty vessels moving in a convoy towards Earth from this world here. Any idea why?” The middle aged man asked Travis, pointing at the desert world that Ronan and Travis had gated to Atlantis from.

 

The two ship's commanders, Travis, and Ronan were gathered in the _Landry's_ war room just adjacent to the warship's bridge. They had dropped out of hyperspace to reassess their priorities in light of the new sensor data and now stood floating at a position a little less than two hundred light years from Earth.

 

Travis looked at the display, and then as recognition came over him, he looked at Ronan who confirmed it with a nodded. Travis remembered his captain telling him about the Klingon beacon he had sent the M.A.C.O.s to destroy. It was the only explanation that made sense. He then gave the two Atlantis colonels a rough synopsis of what happened, being careful to leave out certain details which would only complicate it more.

 

Hawthorne and Ellis listened to Travis's account of his own last encounter with the Klingon with serious expressions on their face throughout most of it. When he was through, they both glanced at each other knowingly.

 

Ellis was the first one to speak. “Well, damn, son. When you make an enemy, you do a proper job of it don't you? Go big or go home.”

 

“We didn't know--” Travis protested.

 

“Relax, son.” Hawthorne cut him off. “You're not the first person to piss off an entire race by mistake.” Hawthorne then cast another knowing glance at Colonel Shepherd. “The Ancients alone know how many times we've had to clean up...”

 

It was then Shepherd's turn to cut off Hawthorne. “Let's stick to the subject, shall we colonel?”

 

The _Landry's_ commander smirked, but agreed to hold his peace.

 

“Thank you.” Shepherd said, looking at both of the other men. “Look, the point is that Earth is now facing an attack by a hostile alien force.” He said.

 

“So, what's priority here? We're still three or four days from Hebridan in hyperspace. My understanding is the guy we're supposed to be dealing with has already had almost three weeks to be up to whatever he's up to, and the more time we take, the more likely a problem it's going to be for everyone.” Ellis reasoned.

 

Shepherd then addressed Travis again, “Travis, what we need to know is whether or not your people can handle this on their own.”

 

“Maybe.” Travis finally said, after looking at the blips on a display of the _Landry's_ sensor data. “But I don't know. That's an awful lot of ships, and I know a lot of our own combat ships are still deployed along the edge of Romulan space. Even if Starfleet pulled them all back right now, they wouldn't be able to get home in time to intercept them.”

 

“What about allies? Didn't one of you say something to me about Earth being in it's own Coalition or Alliance with other worlds.” Hawthorne asked.

 

“Yeah, but from what I understand, our allies' fleets are still recovering from the war too, and Klingon ships are warships first.” Travis said.

 

In that moment, he tried reaching out with the Force, pushing his awareness out as far as he could, but it was either too far, or he just wasn't focused enough. The midichlorians in his cells were silent as to his friends' and shipmates' feelings.

 

“You okay, Lieutenant?” Ellis asked Travis.

 

Travis then realized he had his eyes closed, and he opened them. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

 

“You sure? You looked like you blacked out or something there for a few minutes.” Ellis pressed.

 

“No.” Travis said. “I'm fine, I was just thinking.” It was close enough to the truth.

 

Ellis crossed his arms, nodded at him, and then continued, “So, the question then becomes, how does this new data affect our current mission?”

 

“If Earth's under attack from overwhelming forces, we can't just fly on by.” Shepherd said. “No when we can do something about it.”

 

Hawthorne studied the Atlantis military commander's face for a minute, and then nodded his agreement. “We left our people behind once. Never again.”

 

“Agreed.” Ellis also said with a certain gravity.

 

“But you're only two more ships against sixty.” Travis observed. “I'm sure Starfleet will be grateful for the help, but the odds will still be heavily against us.”

 

Ellis and Hawthorne glance at each other again and then they both chuckled at once. “We'll see about that, Lieutenant.” Ellis told him.

 

“Okay, so we go and join the fight. What about the guy we were sent to hunt?” Hawthorne asked.

 

Shepherd paused for a minute, and then said, “I think I've got an idea.” He then addressed Colonel Hawthorne, “Bill, you've still got hyperspace capable puddle-jumpers on board, right?”

 

“Yeah, a full complement of six. Why?” Hawthorne asked.

 

“Mind if the lieutenant here and I borrow one for a few days?” Shepherd asked.

 

“Is that smart, Ronan? Thought you said this guy was as dangerous as a prior or more so. You're going to need back-up.” Hawthorne asked him.

 

“You can come and pick us up when we're done.” Shepherd said. “Nothing we haven't done before.”

 

Travis tried to follow Shepherd's train of thought, “Wait, what's happening?” He asked.

 

“We're taking a road trip; just the two of us.” Shepherd told him.

 

“Take a couple of marines with you, Colonel, and round out the ops team.” Hawthorne. “Dex and Imaghan are good men.”

 

“Fine.” Shepherd agreed. To Travis he said, “Go pack your lightsaber and some reading material. The puddle-jumper's pretty cramped and boring.”


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 

 _The hurricane metaphor feels more and more appropriate_ , Archer thought to himself as he manned his Captain's chair. The forward viewscreen was filled at the moment with a display of Earth's solar system, and yellow dots too sparsely scattered across it marking where the other Starfleet and Coalition vessels were deployed. Sets of broken red lines indicated possible trajectories of the incoming fleet.

 

New orders had come in within the last hour for most of the fleet to pull back to Earth orbit to form a shield around the human homeworld. _Enterprise_ however was not among those ships so ordered. The older NX class ships, not being as well armed or armored as the more battle minded Ares class ships developed during the recent Romulan war, were left out in the field as “front line scouts” to provide sensor data on the trajectory and heading of the invading alien fleet. They had been ordered not to engage the Klingons if at all possible, but to fall back to Earth once the Klingons had passed their position.

 

“As if any of us would have a choice.” Archer said to himself. One ship against dozens of birds of prey? That was suicide. Even three ships wouldn't last more than a few minutes at best.

 

The mood among the other crewmen on the bridge was tense and after a weeks worth of patrol people were beginning to snap at each other. It was bound to happen sooner or later, Archer knew. Everyone understood their job, and the stakes involved, but the waiting was almost intolerable. Archer himself would have preferred to just get it over with.

 

“Sensor contact, Captain!” Lieutenant Malcolm Reed exclaimed, and Archer's stomach tightened as he jumped to his feet.

 

“Reed alert!” Archer gave the order activating the combat readiness mode named for his tactical officer who came up with it. The command automatically activated the hull shielding polarization provided and brought the weapon systems online. “The Klingons?” He asked, looking to his tactical officer.

 

“Unknown class of vessel. It's only two ships, sir.” Reed told him, his voice concerned and confused. “I don't understand, it's like they just appeared out of nowhere!”

 

“Are they in visual range?” Archer asked.

 

“Yes, sir. Two hundred kilometers off starboard.” Malcolm responded.

 

“On screen.” Archer said, and the sensor map on the forward viewscreen was replaced by a image of two vessels easily two or three times the size of Archer's own ship. They were shaped somewhat like long coppery cetaceans, except for the long rectangular structures both ships sported on their port and starboard flanks that looked suspiciously like hanger decks.

 

“Have they armed weapons, Malcolm?” Archer asked.

 

“I'm not sure but I don't think so, sir. But if they did, I'm not sure how much we could do about it. Sensors are indicating large numbers of smaller heavily armed craft being carried by them, and what look like massive amounts of torpedo ordinance as well as dozens of what look like beam weapon turrets. Whoever they are, they're armed to the teeth.” Malcolm responded.

 

Archer thought for a split second, then he said, “Hoshi, hail them on all channels.”

 

“Aye, sir.” Hoshi responded. “Channels are open, sir.”

 

“Alien vessel, this is the Earth starship _Enterprise_. You are in Coalition of Planets space. Please identify yourselves.” Archer said, giving as much authority as he could to his voice.

 

After a minute, a baritone, no nonsense military like voice sounded over the bridge speakers, “Earth starship _Enterprise_ , this is the Atlantis Coalition warship...” the voice paused for a brief second and then continued, “ _Enterprise,_ Colonel Lionel Ellis, commanding. Do you have visual communication capabilities?”

 

“Yes.” Archer said, then gave the signal to put the video information being transmitted on screen.

 

The image which came up was that of a bald man clearly of African descent in a black jumpsuit uniform nearly identical to the tactical suit Colonel Shepherd had worn. The name “Ellis” was written clearly across the chest. An insignia comprised of a white winged horse inside of an inverted “V” with a circle at the apex graced the man's right shoulder. A circular patch with a field of stars and boxy alien script was the left. A small silver brooch of a bird of prey with a shield as its body and arrows in its talons was smartly fixed to the man's uniform collar.

 

“With whom am I speaking?” Ellis asked.

 

Eyebrows went up all over the bridge as surprise etched itself over the Captain's face as the realization of who the newcomers were broke over him.

 

“Jonathan Archer, Captain of the _Enterprise.”_ Archer finally responded. “Colonel Shepherd didn't tell us we had a sister ship in the Pegasus galaxy.”

 

Ellis nodded and continued. “Some military traditions don't die out.” He said. “The vessel immediately to our starboard is the Atlantis Coalition warship _General Landry_ , Colonel William Hawthorne commanding. Captain Archer, now that our introductions are out of the way, we've been tracking fifty eight heavily armed alien battle cruisers that we believe to be hostile on a direct course for Earth. According to our instruments, at their current course and speed, they are twenty hours behind us as we speak.”

 

“We're aware of them.” Archer confirmed.

 

“Your officer, a Lieutenant Mayweather I believe, informed us they might be pretty tough customers for you. If you're willing to accept it, then the governor of Atlantis has authorized us to assist in whatever capacity necessary in the defense of Earth.” Ellis told him.

 

Archer looked to the rest of his bridge crew with a huge smile on his face and then looked back at Colonel Ellis's more serious expression. “The more the merrier.” He told him, hope beginning to spread throughout the bridge.

 

 

* * *

 

Incense hung heavy in the air as Torak knelt in front of the small shrine. A golden image of Kahless the Unforgettable stood triumphantly before him. The salt and pepper haired Klingon priest's eyes appeared to almost have rolled back into his head. His voice sounded otherworldly as he continued the ancient chant to the revered Emperor.

 

The High Council had betrayed the faith and code of honor left behind by the great Emperor, Torak had been certain of it. Every communications station in the empire had received the beacon's message of the Earthlings' unforgivable transgression against the Emperor and those who honored his name, but what did the High Council do? Nothing.

 

He had gone to the capitol and demanded a crusade be launched against the petaqmey immediately upon receiving the message.

 

“The Empire doesn't mobilize the fleet every time a tera'ngan petaq tramples the grass, Torak.” He had been told, and by the Chancellor of the Empire no less!

 

But the families of several of the Great and Minor Houses were less sacrilegious than their chancellor. Outraged, they had given over command of many of the ships under their own personal command for the crusade. Together, they would restore the honor of the Klingon way. And then, once the tera'ngan vermin were extinguished, Torak would then turn them on Chancellor Markag and his house. Then perhaps a Klingon worthy of Kahless might assume the chancellor's mantle.

 

The crew on the bridge of the D-4 warship had informed him that they would be reaching the human star system within the hour, and he had retreated to his cabin to seek wisdom and guidance from the Emperor's spirit for the forthcoming glorious battle.

 

 _There is no honor in this_.

 

 _What?_ The thought jolted him out of his meditation. _Where did that nonsense come from?_

 

He cleared his mind and focused on the image of the Emperor again.

 

_The humans are like foolish babes. There is no honor in their slaughter._

 

The voice came to him again in his mind, and he tried again to shove it far from him. _The petaqmey have no honor and deserve to be slaughtered for that reason alone_. He argued with his mind. _We are Klingon. We will force them to fear and respect our warrior's hearts_.

 

 _The wind doesn't respect a fool, Torak_.

 

“The humans are barely a light breeze. We'll see who's the fool.” Torak responded out loud.

 

The voice was silent after that.

 

“Bridge to Torak.” A gravelly voice said over the speakers in his quarters, and Torak stood up.

 

“Go ahead.” The priest responded.

 

“We're within the boundaries of Earth's star system and approaching a large gas giant planet. Sensors indicate a single human battle cruiser in orbit.” The voice replied.

 

“Prepare to drop out of warp.” Torak ordered. “And arm all weapons.”

 

* * *

 

“It was just as I thought. I told you he would not listen. The false image he has created of me in his mind has darkened his reason to insanity.” The ascended being spoke to the other present as they both continued to watch the delusional priest make his way to the bridge of the battle cruiser. “My people have fallen far from the ways of honor I taught them.” The impression he gave was that of sadness, perhaps almost grief. If he had been corporal, he might have shaken his head incredulously.

 

“Thank you for trying, Kahless.” The other ascended being told him. “Any attempt at stopping this was worth the effort.”

 

If he were corporal, Kahless would have wordlessly nodded his assent. His mood became pensive and thoughtful.

 

“I fear for my people, Daniel Jackson. Ascended or not, I am Klingon, and my heart remains in their service.” He expressed this proudly and unashamedly. “And they are still my people. I fear what they are becoming. They have lost the joy in their warrior's hearts, and it has only been replaced by blood lust and anger. Warfare must enrich the spirit or it is pointless. They have forgotten that the true battle is in the heart first. The Klingon who loses this battle is no warrior, much less a Klingon. Soon, there will be no true Klingons left.” He paused, and then added. “Sometimes I think the Ancient One had the right idea, Daniel Jackson.” Kahless told him. “Perhaps one day soon I may have to keep my word and return to Boreth lead my people again.”

 

A profound respect for the alien yet fellow ascended being rose up within Daniel. He understood now what their fellow mentor, Oma Desala, had seen in him to lead him to this existence in spite of the dangers involved which such a personality as his. To this day, the warrior inspired a powerful belief in himself among his people which in turn gave him to be one of the more powerful among the ascended. It took a great heart, and a great humility, to not abuse it as he could have.

 

“The Others will try and stop you.” He reminded the former emperor, though not disagreeing with the great warrior's heart.

 

“To Grethor with the Others. They use the excuse of non-interference so much that they nearly let the galaxy burn, or do you forget? I remember well. Only you and Oma had the courage to stand up and fight as true warriors, Daniel Jackson. She remains in glorious combat for eternity, and I honor her for that. She made me remember who I was as well, and what I should have done.” Kahless's tone then became quiet and questioning. “What good is such a rule if everything good in the universe is destroyed by it?” He might have spat.

 

Daniel had no answer for him, as he had often asked himself the same question.

 

“The Ancient One found a way around them. Perhaps I may too. It will require a great strategy, and the proper timing. I must think on it, and wait for the right moment, my friend.” Kahless continued. He then asked, “What will you do now?”

 

“The only thing any of us can do.” Daniel replied cryptically.

 

Kahless seemed to pick up on his meaning, and he said, “Good luck. Fight with honor, Daniel Jackson. In the end, our honor is all we have.” And then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Fifty eight Klingon ships dropped out of warp near a blue gas giant to meet the lone Earth vessel in high orbit that many if not most of the Klingon captains knew by its ignominious reputation if not by sight.

 

“Archer's ship.” Commander Ketlor said with a toothy grin as he observed the alien markings on the hull. Duras had been a kinsman to his sister's husband. Today, the honor of their house would be avenged.

 

Ketlor looked forward to it.

 

“What was that?” The priest, the leader of this “crusade” who stood next to Ketlor's command seat mumbled.

 

“I know that ship. It is commanded by the human mercenary who escaped Rura Penthe.” Ketlor responded.

 

“Then today, a criminal will be brought to justice, and honor shall be restored to the Empire.” The old priest replied pompously.

 

“Sir, we're being hailed by the Earth ship.” Ketlor's communications officer reported.

 

“Ignore them, they are not worth listening to.” The priest said.

 

 _Oh no. Not on my ship you old fool._ “Belay that Karg. Put it on screen. Let's hear what the petaq has to say before we reduce his ship to slag.” Ketlor told him, then turning to the priest, “This is _my_ ship, priest. I command the warriors here. Remember that.” He growled, baring his fangs for good measure.

 

The old fool shrank back slightly as the image of a weak looking, pink skinned human in a blue child's pajamas came on the forward viewscreen.

 

“Klingon vessels, you are in violation of sovereign Earth space. Turn back now or be destroyed.” The human told them with a serious look on his face.

 

Ketlor's face went blank for a moment. Then he laughed. He laughed so hard he might have cried if he had tear ducts. When he could compose himself, he replied, “I like you human! You have gall and a warrior's heart! It might be an honor to kill you if there weren't so many of us.” He then ordered Karg to close the channel.

 

“Signal the fleet,” He ordered, still trying not to laugh more, “Arm torpedoes. Destroy the fool's ship and let's be on our way. I'm sure there are more like this to kill before we reach their world.”

 

This might not be a total waste of his time after all. He was always up for a bit of light entertainment.

 

“Sir, look!” Another warrior shouted, pointing at the viewscreen.

 

Ketlor's attention was pulled back to the display. The picture on the viewscreen changed as two other ships which Ketlor did not recognize materialized from nowhere above and below the Earth vessel.

 

“What are those?” Ketlor asked, his smile dimming.

 

“Unknown vessels, sir. They've raised shields around themselves and the Earth ship. Sensors can't penetrate them.” Came back the report.

 

“It's only two more ships.” The priest said, reminding him.

 

It was a surprise, though. Ketlor didn't like surprises in combat. But the fool was right. It was only two more ships that would soon be slag under the combined firepower of their fleet.

 

“ _Bakh!_ ” He gave the order to fire all weapons.

 

* * *

 

“You know, from this perspective, the explosions are actually really quite lovely.” Malcolm commented. “I don't think I've ever thought about it before, but it really is quite beautiful.”

 

The scene felt surreal to Archer as the forward viewscreen's display was filled with images of dozens of antimatter detonations and phase cannon fire against the blue tinged energy shields protecting the three human vessels. It should have been terrifying. They should have been ripped to shreds and melted slag by now. They should have at least felt a bump or two.

 

“Archer to Ellis.” He called out, opening a channel to the Atlantis ship's commander.

 

“Ellis here, Captain.” Came the ship's commander's response.

 

“How're your shields holding up under this?” Archer asked.

 

“We're sitting pretty at ninety-nine percent shield strength, Captain. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the fireworks.” Came Ellis's response.

 

The bombardment went on for the next ten minutes as the three ships just sat there, protected by the energy shields. Several of the Klingon ships attempted to circle around and hit the shields from different angles assuming that if the forward shields were at full strength then there would be hardly any protection against the aft and sides.

 

They were wrong.

 

“So what do you think, Captain? How long until they run out of ordinance?” Came Hawthorne's voice over the channel. “They seem to be intent on expending all of it on us.” He then added, “They must really not like you.”

 

Archer looked towards Malcolm for an answer with a questioning look.

 

Malcolm looked at his own sensor data and said, “It's hard to tell, sir, through all the detonations, and the Atlantis ships' shield technology, but my best educated guess is that they've expended most of their torpedo ordinance on us already.”

 

Archer opened the channel again and informed Hawthorne and Ellis.

 

“Yeah, that's what our sensors are telling us too. They should be just about exhausted. You want to give them a call again? Give them a chance to retreat?” Hawthorne asked.

 

“I'll make the call now.” Archer agreed. “They've still got their beam weapons. How are your shields looking now after all that?”

 

“Oh, we're down to about eighty-five percent of shield strength. We've still got plenty of juice left in the power modules though. These guys aren't anything we can't manage.” Hawthorne replied.

 

* * *

 

“Sir, all torpedoes have been expended!” The weapons officer reported.

 

“Why haven't they returned fire? What kind of cowards are they?” The fool priest said.

 

 _Cowards don't just sit there and take the pounding as if it were just a light rain you old fool!_ Ketlor thought to himself, but said nothing. He was beginning to have serious doubts about this “easy conquest” Torak had talked the leaders of his house into.

 

“Sir, the humans are hailing us again.” Karg reported.

 

Ketlor didn't hesitate. “Put him on screen.” He said.

 

He was far from laughing now.

 

“Klingon vessels, this is your last warning. Return peaceably to Klingon space, or be destroyed.” The human said.

 

Ketlor didn't respond right away. _They've already proven they can take whatever we throw at them. What does it matter how weak their weapons are if we can't even get past their shields? It will be a slaughter, but it will be our slaughter._ He thought to himself.

 

“Fool human! You invite your own slaughter at the hands of the Klingon Empire!” Torak screamed in defiance at the screen.

 

Before Ketlor could stop him, he ordered the channel closed and told the weapons officer to fire disruptors at the Earth ships.

 

Before the conscious thought appeared in his mind, a Dk'Tagh dagger appeared in Ketlor's hand and it was thrust upwards into the old priest's heart. Thick pink fluid spilled out of the wound as the priest's eyes opened wide with shock before his body slumped to the floor.

 

“Kahless damn you to Grethor, you fool. You've killed all of us.” Ketlor spat at the corpse.

 

* * *

 

Bolts of green energy shot forth from the cannons of the combined Klingon warships attempting to penetrate the energy shields of their opponents. They met with no more success than the photonic torpedoes did.

 

Bright points of light like huge fireflies began to fly from the two unknown human ships in all directions towards the Klingon warships like a swarm. They were so unlike anything the Klingons had ever seen that many of the weapons officers didn't know how to respond to them.

 

Then the swarm slammed into the first warship treating the Klingons ship's own shields as though they didn't exist. Within seconds the ship was torn to shreds and exploded. Strangely, unlike any normal ordinance, the swarm itself seemed virtually unaffected by its collisions.

 

Then the swarm moved on to two more ships. Reducing them to slag it continued from ship to ship working its way from the closest to the farthest ships from its point of origin.

 

Those few Klingon commanders farthest away and towards the rear of the fleet saw what was happening and gave the order to go to warp, retreating back to Klingon space. None in the vanguard of the attack force survived.

 

The invasion was over without Archer's ship having to fire a single shot.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

 

Shuttlecraft were not meant for three day trips. If he hadn't thought this way before, Travis was now convinced of it. The seven meter or so long, cylindrical “puddlejumper” as Ronan had called it was no exception to the rule. Especially where toileting facilities were concerned.

 

There weren't any. From the way that Travis could see the puddlejumper was designed, there weren't meant to be any either. It felt like one of Starfleet's shuttlepods, meant for trips measured in hours and kilometers, not days and lightyears.

 

They were all men on board, and military men to boot, but three days of doing your business in a glorified bucket in the back of the shuttle in full view of the other three passengers was just a little too much military efficiency for Travis to appreciate. He found it even more disturbing that the glorified bucket had its own regular storage bin under one of the rear jump seats. He loved flying the shuttlepods, but not for so long that nature started calling.

 

When without warning one of the marines had first flipped up the seat and pulled out the bucket after six hours of flight time, faced away from the others and started emptying his bladder of whatever beverage he had consumed recently, Travis had asked Ronan, “Do you guys normally travel in one of these things for this long?”

 

“Not usually, no.” The colonel had answered from his pilot's seat. “The original puddlejumpers were meant by the Ancients to be gateships.” He had pointed to the panel of buttons that sat in between the pilot's and “passenger's” seat. There were thirty nine hexagonal buttons, each imprinted with a stargate coordinate symbol. “That's why they're designed in the shape of a cylinder and the external stabilizer pods retract into the body. The idea to put hyperdrives in them for FTL travel on their own belonged to one of Jennifer's ancestors over a hundred years ago. Funny thing is, I think I can count on one hand how many times my team and I have had to use the hyperdrive in a puddlejumper and I think those were six hour trips tops.”

 

The four men slept in shifts stretching out across the cushioned jump seats which lined the rear two thirds of the craft. There was a closable partition in between the rear section and the “cockpit” which afforded some privacy during those times that required it, but it wasn't much.

 

After the second day, Travis realized what was really getting to him about being in the puddlejumper. He wasn't the one doing the flying. And that left him a lot more time to think about what was coming. It was like they had taken the bigger warship and shrank it down to the size and shape of a tin can. Except this time he didn't even have the distraction of sparring with Ronan, and meditation wasn't the easiest thing to accomplish when there were three other men who were constantly with you. One of the marines had pulled out a deck of playing cards and invited him to join in, but you could only play so many games of poker before it began to get old.

 

When Ronan wasn't flying one of the marines with pilot's training took over. Travis would have offered, but the controls were completely alien to him. Ronan explained to him that almost all of the puddlejumper's functions were controlled by thought. Running through hyperspace on an urgent mission to deal with a supercharged bad guy wasn't the best of times to learn something new. Ronan also told him the old, original puddlejumpers also had some kind of a genetic lock on them. Unless you were blessed with the right DNA, the lights wouldn't even come on for you.

 

“My great grandfather spent a lot of mission hours in the Ancients' jumpers.” Ronan had said. “He was one of the few pilots with the right DNA and amount of control to really fly them the way they were meant. There were times he even piloted the city of Atlantis itself.” There was a certain amount of pride in his voice when he talked about his family, and Travis could feel from him a certain amount of expectation he never thought he would live up to.

 

Travis tried to imagine what it might have been like to try and pilot something the size of a city like the one he had seen, and that only with your mind. It seemed almost beyond him. But then he reminded himself about the kinds of things a Jedi could do through the Force; some of the kinds of things he himself had done through the Force.

 

 _Size matters not_. Travis reminded himself. That had been one of Yoda's most basic teachings about the Force. _It's not you who's doing anything. It's the Force that's doing all the heavy lifting. You just gotta be open to it and listen._ Maybe the Ancients of Atlantis somehow figured out how to incorporate that into their technology too.

 

A holographic sensor display popped up suddenly in front of where Travis and Ronan sat in the pilot's seats, it showed several stars and planets labeled in both English and the same boxy script Travis had seen elsewhere on Atlantis and the _Landry_.

 

“We're coming up on Hebridan.” Ronan said. “Sensors show the stargate's still operational and transmitting its updates.”

 

Within minutes, the puddlejumper dropped out of Hyperspace and the strange aurora like space around them which had been Travis' view through the forward window for three days reverted back to the familiar field of stars against the eternal night of space. Dominating the star filled expanse was a beautiful blue and green world which might have been Earth's twin sister.

 

“Engaging the cloak.” Ronan reported again, though Travis didn't notice any obvious changes inside the small craft. “Just in case there's anyone down there with the tech to see us up here.”

 

They approached the planet from the night side, and they could clearly see masses of lights sparsley scattered across the surface, though not as many as Travis would have expected from a spacefaring capable civilization.

 

“Didn't someone say these people used to be more technologically advanced than Earth was a hundred and sixty years ago?” Travis asked. “It looks like there are cities down there, but not nearly what I would have expected.”

 

“According to the historical database they were conquered by the Ori. From what I remember in my history classes about them, the Ori had a policy of genocide against those who didn't accept them as gods.” Ronan told him. He then said with a solemn irony, “I guess most of the Hebrideans at the time weren't the religious type.”

 

After another minute or so, he brought up the sensor display again and said, “Okay, so the stargate is here according to the jumper's sensors.” He pointed to a place on a larger southern continent. “It's been almost a month since this guy gated here, right?”

 

“Yeah, which means he could be anywhere on the planet by now, if he's still here.” Travis said.

 

“Let's not call the planet Sithless just yet, buddy.” Ronan said. “Can't you use the Force to track him?”

 

“Maybe,” Travis said, “but there's every chance he'll sense me if I do and we lose the element of surprise. I don't know what he's capable of. He may already know we're here.”

 

“Right.” Ronan said, and then looked as if he were thinking about something for a minute. Then the forward display immediately changed to readouts which Travis couldn't make heads or tails of.

 

“What's all that?” The Starfleet officer asked.

 

“All this tells me about what kinds of power generation are in use down there, how much power is being used, etc. The sensors also detect what kinds of materials are used in building construction. In short, it's telling me roughly where they're at technologically. And if we know that, we know how far away from the stargate this guy could have gone in about a month.” Ronan explained.

 

“Yeah, okay. Commander T'Pol uses some similar methods when _Enterprise_ is orbiting a new world. What's it saying? Where are they at?” Travis asked.

 

“Give me a second. Jennifer's usually the one that does this.” Ronan told him, studying the readouts. “Well, I'm not picking up any power signatures that suggest anything advanced like antimatter or fusion technology. All of the energy spikes are still pretty low output, fossil fuel burning power plants maybe? I don't think they're running any tech that's as power intensive as you or I might be used to. It looks like there's a decent amount of particulates in their atmosphere too.” The Atlantis colonel pointed to several different sets of numbers on the display as he explained. “I'm pretty sure that means air pollution from industrial output and maybe transports, especially concentrated around the population centers like it is. If I was to make an educated guess I'd say maybe late nineteenth century to early twentieth century Earth if I remember right? I'm not picking up any vessels in the air, so he'd probably have to rely on surface transport of some kind if he's not walking.”

 

 _And these people used to travel the stars too_ , Travis thought to himself solemnly. _Is this what Yoda wanted to prevent?_

 

“Still, though, you can travel a pretty good distance in a month with just ground transport, even in something that burns fossil fuels.” Travis observed.

 

“Well, we've got to start looking somewhere.” Ronan replied. “My vote is to land near the stargate and start checking out the locals. Even if he's a couple hundred kilometers away from it now, he had to have hitched a ride from someone who still remembers.”

 

“If they survived the encounter.” Travis added.

 

“Only one way to find out.” Ronan responded, and he set a course for the southern continent.

 

* * *

 

The stargate on Hebridan stood on the edge of a city which might have, at one time, resembled the San Francisco or Paris Travis knew on Earth. Tall towers in the nearby city and sprawling rails traveling outwards to parts unknown which looked to be magnetically driven still stood as a testament to what the Hebridean civilization had been.

 

But signs of the present intruded on whatever the Hebridean past might have been. Around the city stood a stone and earthen wall which rose up easily ten or fifteen meters from the ground. The rails were and remained silent and empty. In the darkness of the impending dawn, Travis could see that what might have been power cables were snapped or cut in several places along them. Other bits of damage and vandalism could be seen as well. Only a few lights could be seen in the city's towers and buildings, and he couldn't tell if the orange glows he saw in the buildings were small fires or primitive electric lighting from that distance. The air held a sour, dirty odor to it. Having spent most of his life in artificially controlled environments aboard spacecraft, Travis nearly gagged and reflexively almost tried not to breath. He had to employ what meditative Force techniques Yoda taught him in order to convince his lungs to admit the foul smelling atmosphere.

 

Overhead, Hebridan's moon gave off a pale, soft silvery light which did far more to help the team to find their way than the occasional dim orange street lamp they encountered. Their first stop after setting down in what looked to be an abandoned cluster of maintenance buildings was the stargate itself.

 

Travis carried a kind of plasma based pistol in a holster on his hip which would only stun a person as long as you only hit them once with it. Attached to the holster's belt was a ring and a clip that Travis suspected was originally meant for a flashlight but which served well in securing his lightsaber. The other three men were armed with the same kind of pistols as well as projectile based assault rifles, knives, and grenades.

 

One device that Ronan handed to Travis before they left the jumper looked like a small, green crystal brooch.

 

“Here, put this on. It's thought activated.” He told him.

 

“What is it?” Travis had asked.

 

“It's a personal shield. We produce them on Atlantis for our military forces. When you want it on, focus on the need to be protected, and it should work.” Ronan told him as Travis fixed it to the left breast of his black jumpsuit. “It's got a limited power supply, but I've seen them absorb hits from one of our own drone weapons before.”

 

Ronan then fixed another one to his own tactical uniform. Travis saw the other men do the same, adding them to the already imposing array of tactical gear.

 

“I guess you folks have to do a lot more fighting back in Pegasus than we do.” He observed.

 

“Unlike your Starfleet, Travis, our primary mission isn't exploration. Virtually the entire Pegasus galaxy was already mapped and explored by the Ancients who built Atlantis. We already know who and what is out there. Our job is keeping the peace and ensuring the survival of the human worlds against threats like the Wraith by any means necessary with every resource and technology at our disposal.” He replied.

 

“We've had to defend ourselves from more than our share of enemies too.” Travis responded, remembering the Xindi mission, the Romulans, the Klingons, and every other hostile race they'd encountered. “But Captain Archer's always found that trying to talk things out works better in most circumstances.”

 

“You've only gone, what? Fifty light years from Earth? You've probably visited a hundred worlds, maybe? There are at least thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of habitable planets in this galaxy, Travis. If I remember from my history lessons, the Milky Way has had its own share of bad guys that just can't be negotiated with. One even tried to wipe out all life in the galaxy just so he could recreate it in his own image. The Earth you know hasn't even encountered half of what they're going to as they go further out into this galaxy.” Ronan said. He then added, “It's hard to 'talk things out' with an alien race that masquerades as gods and culls human populations like cattle to feed on them. Some people out there just can't be reasoned with, and you've got to do what you need to ensure your own people's survival.”

 

Travis chewed on the colonel's words as they approached the stargate, about three kilometers from where they set the jumper down.

 

The great metal ring was situated above an ornate stone and marble platform in what might have once been a public square or park. Around it, lamp posts had been placed, though they were dark and might have been before the fall of the original civilization. It could have been an artistic piece, or a monument to some long forgotten achievement. Ten meters away stood the control pedestal.

 

Their bigger concern were the two men standing on either side of the stargate. Both were decidedly human. Each held a long staff, tipped with two long flat pincers, in their right hands. Both wore helmets and armor that might have seemed more appropriate in a medieval history book than an alien planet.

 

The four stopped about thirty meters from the gate and ducked behind an old collection of stone statuary and pedestals. Ronan pulled out what looked to Travis like binoculars and carefully put his head out to get a better look. The two marines guarded to the sides and behind them.

 

Travis reached out gingerly, unobtrusively with the Force, allowing his awareness to expand to the two men guarding the gate. There was something not right about them. They felt… cold. Dark somehow. It was a feeling that he had encountered before, back under Cheyenne Mountain.

 

“I don't like this, Ronan.” Travis told him. “They don't feel right.”

 

“What do you mean?” The colonel asked.

 

“There's something wrong with them in the Force. I think it's what Master Yoda called a 'disturbance'. They feel dark. Like they're connected to the dark side somehow.” Travis told him.

 

“Can you be any more specific?” Ronan asked?

 

“No, sorry. I kind of got the abridged course in being a Jedi. Both times.” Travis responded.

 

Ronan looked at him questioningly, and then decided he would have to ask what Travis meant later.

 

“Alright, so we don't go up and just ask for directions to the big bad guy. Any ideas?” Ronan asked.

 

Then a blast of energy hit the statue just above their heads. They both turned to see the two guards now approaching their position, staff weapons down in a threatening manner.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

 

“How'd they know we were here?!” Ronan shouted to Travis as pulses of plasma fired from his rifle. The two marines turned their own weapons on the medievally armored enemy soldiers as well, but it didn't seem to help.

 

Travis noticed a green shimmer of energy snugly envelope the two marines. Ronan looked back and noticed it too. He shouted at them, “There's only two of them! Don't get careless and use up all the power on your shields!”

 

The two marines nodded, and the green shimmer died.

 

Almost as if sensing what path Shepherd's plasma shots would follow, the two hostile soldiers guards dodged and weaved around them until they took refuge behind similar statuary to the Atlantis team on the opposite side of the ruined courtyard as they continued to fire their own energy blasts from their pincer pronged staff weapons.

 

“Travis, use those freaky abilities you've got and tell me what's going on!” Ronan shouted again as the two soldiers continued to evade the combined shots from three experienced and heavily trained marksmen. “How the hell are they moving faster than the plasma bursts?”

 

Travis's gut knotted as he felt the answer to both questions.

 

“It's the Force.” Travis answered back in an even tone. “I think what I'm feeling from them is the dark side.”

 

“What?! Oh hell!” Ronan said as the implications of Travis's statement hit him. He saw back on the desert world what a person who could use the Force could do in a fight against otherwise superior opponents. “Alright, new plan. We'll cover you, but these jokers are yours!” He then shouted to the two marines to provide cover fire, but not to attempt to engage up close.

 

The two marines raised their eyebrows at him, but both complied in a professional manner with, “Yes, sir. No up close and personal.”

 

“Right.” Travis said, more to himself than anyone else. “They're my problem to deal with.”

 

He reminded himself, _This is why I'm here. This is what we do._

 

And then, once more, Travis closed his eyes and immersed himself into the Force. Immediately the awareness of all living things around him exploded outwards. The hostile guards once again felt like cold, dark blotches against the warmth and peace of the living Force around him.

 

Then Travis sensed something else and zeroed in on the direction of the two guards. Through the Force he could just see one of the guards pulling out a small box from somewhere under his armor and speaking into it.

 

 _He's calling for reinforcements._ Travis knew, and felt several, similar dark splotches of living Force coming at them from the direction of one of the buildings of the ruined city to the southeast.

 

“We've got bigger problems than these guys, Ronan!” Travis told him. “They just called for back-up! More just like them, maybe five or ten coming from the southeast. They'll be here in a few minutes.”

 

“Damn!” Ronan said then he looked around him for any place they might possibly retreat to. Spying another building about thirty meters to the west, he asked Travis, “Can you keep them busy for us?”

 

Travis thought he understood. This was a fight he might win, but they couldn't. This was a Jedi's job, not theirs.

 

Travis pulled the lightsaber from his belt, flipped the switch and it ignited with a snap-hiss. “Go. I'll cover you.”

 

Then turning away from the Atlantis men, Travis launched himself with his legs into the air some fifteen meters as his jump carried him in an arc over and behind the two enemy guards. His lightsaber came down to meet their staves as they turned them towards him, but the metal of the staves couldn't stand up to the intense heat of the lightsaber and it cut right through them, rendering the weapons useless. The next things its glowing arc cut through were the dull metal breastplates of their armor. The lightsaber flicked back around and their helmets came off with their heads still inside them.

 

Then more blasts of energy came for him and he darted out of the way, flipping to his side his lightsaber came up and caught the blasts deflecting them back towards the men who fired them. One of them, not aware of it fast enough fell as the energy blast hit his metal breastplate and punched through it.

 

The other nine soldiers fanned out and continued to fire on the energy blade wielding intruder, bright blue bolts of plasma shooting from the end of their staves. It took all of Travis's focus to anticipate and avoid the armored soldiers shots, and a few grazed the material of his black jumpsuit along his left shoulder and legs.

 

They shouted at him, “Surrender now!”

 

Travis charged at them in response shouting in response, “Not on your life!” He knew he was the only thing standing in between these dark side Force capable soldiers and Ronan's team.

 

Then Travis felt like someone had pulled the plug on him and he stumbled.

 

“What the…?” He said.

 

All of a sudden, just as he was about to make another leap towards the closest one he felt his connection to the Force just shut down completely, and he no longer sense where the next blast would come from.

 

Dazed and confused the next thing he saw before tripping and falling to his knees were the bright blue energy blasts coming from behind the armored soldiers and hitting their back armored plates. Each soldier fell where he stood, unable to get off another shot, until there were a total of twelve enemy corpses littering the courtyard.

 

Travis hit the ground ignominiously. His head felt fuzzy like he couldn't focus and he couldn't sense anything behind his five natural senses which were filled the smell and feel of dirty, unkempt paving stones.

 

“Clear!” Travis heard Ronan shout and he looked up wearily to see his friend and the other two marines, rifles in hand and ready.

 

The Atlantis colonel ran up and offered Travis his left hand, the right still on the grip of his rifle. “You didn't think we'd actually abandon you to these guys did you?” Ronan asked with a smirk on his face. Then he asked as Travis took his hand slowly, “You alright, buddy? You took a pretty good fall.”

 

Ronan helped him to his feet gingerly, but the Jedi felt off balance and clumsy. It felt like someone had completely taken away all of his depth perception and messed with his inner ear.

 

“Yeah, I think so. What just happened?” He asked in confusion. “It felt like I went blind all of a sudden. It's like I've totally lost all contact with the Force.”

 

The colonel unstrapped the black backpack he had been carrying, opened it up and pulled out a black metal disk about the size and shape of a frisbee or a discus. Lights blinked around it.

 

“What is that?” Travis asked.

 

“My ancestors dubbed it an 'Anti-Prior-Device', or A.P.D. for short. When they fought the Ori before, there were these religious leaders called priors that the Ori gave miraculous abilities to in order to fool people into worshiping them. The original stargate program developed these devices to neutralize the special abilities the Ori priors had. After seeing and hearing about the kinds of things you could do, and this Sith guy did, on a hunch, I had our boys back on Atlantis fashion one for me from old plans down in fabrication.” Motioning towards the bodies on the ground, he said, “Looks like my hunch was right.”

 

“You could have warned me.” Travis said, rubbing his head.

 

“It's pretty short range, within five meters or so. I didn't want to take the chance one of them could have read your mind or mine and picked up on it.” Ronan answered and then said, “Sorry, buddy, but I needed a distraction to use it, and I knew you'd have the best chance of any of us surviving long enough against them to get it close enough.”

 

Ronan then passed his fingers over a particular set of lights on the device, and it went dark. Right away, Travis could feel his head clear and the awareness and warmth of the Force flooded back into him. “Wow.” Was all he could say. “Master Yoda never said that could be done. That was actually a little scary. I never realized...”

 

“Maybe he didn't know it could be.” Ronan replied, then noticing Travis was still a little shaken he asked again, “Hey, you sure you're alright?”

 

“Yeah… yeah, I mean I think so.” Travis responded. “I just, I've never felt that way before. Maybe I was relying on the Force for a lot longer than I thought and I just didn't know it, or… or something.” He told his friend.

 

“Yeah, maybe.” Ronan said, concerned for his friend. “Right now though, we've got to get moving.” Looking at the corpses, he then said, “Can't have anyone finding these, though.”

 

He pulled out the energy hand weapon Travis had noticed before and motioned for the marines to do the same, he then started shooting the corpse closest to him with it, once, twice, and then a third time. On the third shot, the body was completely vaporized. The two marines followed suit. In a very short amount of time, all twelve bodies were gone.

 

Satisfied, he holstered his sidearm, and replaced the inert A.P.D. back in his backpack, saying,

“I've got to use this thing sparingly, so we've got to keep it off for as long as we can until we find our primary target. According to the records, the longer a prior was exposed to it, the more of a chance there was he could adapt and overcome it.”

 

“Right.” Travis said his voice betraying the relief he felt at the device being put away. “Good to know.”

 

“Judging by what you told me about these guys, and how they evaded our weapons, I think it's pretty reasonable to assume that our bad guy is close by.” Ronan said, his voice taking on a serious, almost ominous qaulity. He obviously didn't like the conclusions he was coming to and he took them very seriously. “Someone's been teaching them this stuff.”

 

Ronan then gestured towards the stone walled ruins in the distance, “Our best bet's probably the main city over there, behind the wall.” He then looked up at the sky which was beginning to lighten with the impending dawn.

 

“Yeah.” Travis agreed. “Let's get going.”

 

The Jedi's mind however was still on how he had reacted to the activation of the A.P.D. as the four men moved out, following the tracks of the ruined monorail train system towards the ruined city.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

 

The sun was above the horizon and the deep reds and purples of dawn had given way to orange and then a lightly clouded blue sky by the time the four men had drawn close to the medieval stone wall. The closer they got, the more Travis could see that it was made of chunks of concrete, stone, and whatever else the inhabitants could find all cemented together somewhat loosely with a hardened mud. The wall came up from the ground at a slight angle, and the team could see it was more of a high, steep mound surrounding the city than a wall built by architects or engineers. The mound-wall rose up about six or seven meters from the ground.

 

The main entry ways into the city from the direction they had approached were guarded by more, similarly armored soldiers with staff weapons like they had encountered near the stargate. Huge wooden gates set into metal frames had been swung open by those soldiers as the sun rose.

 

When they had still been at a distance, they found an abandoned three story building, similar to the old row houses that someone might still occasionally see in San Francisco, and climbed to the mostly level roof, ducking down behind a waist high safety wall which ran around the edge. There was a large metal box and what looked like two small storage sheds placed seemingly at random.

 

From the rooftop, Ronan observed the closest gated entry with his binoculars. Neither he nor Travis wanted to take the chance of the soldiers sensing another Force user, so Travis kept his own abilities reigned in to the surrounding two or three meters of their position as the Atlantis soldier scouted it out.

 

“You ever see any of the old post-apocalypse movies, Travis?” Ronan asked him, surveying the scene in front of them as the sunlight hit the surrounding area.

 

“No. Historical dramas aren't really my thing.” Travis replied. “Although there was one a few year back that swept the Oscars.”

 

Ronan stopped and paused for a minute, confused. _Oh, right._ He then realized. Nuclear apocalyptic scenarios hadn't been science fiction to those people who had remained on Earth after his ancestors had left. He decided to drop the subject, and then described the scene to the other men.

 

“I see at least six guards at what appears to be the main gate that the road leads up to. There appears to be some pretty heavy foot traffic, mostly coming out of the city to the surrounding area, but there's a few entering in with loaded horse carts… or what ever those animals are.” In truth, the animals he saw looked a lot like a horse had gotten confused with an iguana one night. “The guards don't seem to be checking them. No. Wait.”

 

Ronan watched as one of the guards lowered his staff weapon and without warning fired into one of the covered carts three times, causing it to burst into flames. Immediately, three human forms in flames jumped out of the cart and attempted to roll on the ground, but the guards fired again, and whoever they were stopped moving. Another guard fired an energy blast at the man who had been drawing the cart, and he dropped to the ground as well.

 

Ronan described what had just happened for the other men.

 

One of the marines remarked in response, “I guess that rules out the front door. What do we do, try to find an open window, sir?”

 

“Maybe.” Ronan replied, thinking. “Let's get closer to the wall, away from the guards, and see what our options are.”

 

As Ronan began to put his binoculars away, there came the quiet sound of something shifting or scraping against surface of the dirty rooftop. Immediately, Travis picked up on it, and extended his awareness.

 

Travis tapped Ronan's arm, then motioned for him to remain quiet by touching his finger to his own lips. He raised one finger and mouthed the words, “One person. Behind us and towards the right. Not a guard.” He concluded the last by shaking his head. He hadn't gotten the same dark feeling from this new presence, but there was something...

 

Ronan nodded and motioned for Travis to check it out.

 

Silently, Travis backed up and towards a taller shed box, keeping the presence he felt in his awareness. He sensed a fear, but also a curiosity. There was also a kind of innocence about it. He was less than a meter from the presence behind the shed, and confident that it didn't know he was there. Not much farther, and...

 

Through the Force, Travis moved faster than a human eye might have seen and grabbed, catching what felt like a small arm and pulled the smaller person in front of him. Before the owner of the arm could cry out, he put his other hand around the owner's mouth which he found somewhere near his own stomach.

 

 _It's a kid._ Travis thought. A tangled mass of hair draped down his captive's back and he immediately thought, _It's a girl._

 

“Got you.” He said, though quietly so as not to draw the attention of any of the guards that might be in the surrounding areas.

 

His captive panicked and struggled for a few seconds, and then she tried to clamp down on his hand with her teeth, but she couldn't get a grip against his palm.

 

“Hey, none of that now.” Travis told his captive in a quiet, calm voice, turning her around so she could see his face. “Neither me nor my friends are going to hurt you. We just want to talk to you alright?” He then took his left hand from her arm and took his index finger and pressed it against his own lips, and then pointed towards the gate where the guards were.

 

The girl slowly nodded with understanding.

 

“Good. Okay then.” Travis said to her, taking his hand away from her mouth. She remained silent, looking into his eyes. Her own eyes weren't frightened, but held a wary curiosity.

 

She looked to be maybe nine or ten years old. Her tangled hair was a dark brown, and she wore a torn pair of short pants and a dirty shirt that might have been either blue or green at one point in time, but now was so streaked with dirt and grime it was uneven shades of gray.

 

In all respects the girl looked human, but her dirt smeared face clearly betrayed some alien ancestry as well, with a slightly protruding forehead and cranial indentations, and exposed membranes for temples.

 

“What's your name?” He asked, trying not to be threatening.

 

“La'el.” She answered simply, a distinct lack of trust apparent in her voice, “What's yours?”

 

“My name's Travis.” He answered. “What are you doing up here all by yourself, La'el?”

 

The girl's blue-green eyes betrayed a childhood that had been cut so much shorter than it should have been. They were the eyes of an innocence lost; a child that had seen what no one should have.

 

“Dark soldiers don't bother with the dead houses.” She answered. “No one comes here but half-breeds. But you're not a half breed like me.”

 

“Half-breeds?” Travis asked her.

 

She studied his face before she answered, looking at him as though trying to peer into his soul. Travis felt something as she did it. A brief brush against his mind which surprised him. Then she answered his question.

 

“You and the other men feel different. You're not like us.” She answered. “You're not from the city, are you?” She asked, gesturing towards the once gleaming towers surrounded by the wall.

 

“No.” Travis answered honestly. “We're not.”

 

Travis opened himself up further to the Force, trying to understand the girl. He sensed much pain that she had endured, much trauma in her young life, and an anger directed towards the armored men at the gate.

 

The four men needed a way into the city, and the front door wasn't going to cut it, Travis knew. They needed to find a way around the soldiers, which meant they needed someone who knew their way around.

 

Travis settled on the truth again.“We're looking for someone. Maybe you can help us find him.”

 

“Who are you looking for?” She asked.

 

“A really bad guy that hurt a lot of people where I'm from. We're trying to stop him from hurting anyone else. We think he came through the stargate, the big ring over...” Travis tried to explain.

 

She cut him off, “You've come looking for Lord Teljens, haven't you?”

 

 _Bingo_. Travis thought.

 

“Maybe we are.” He told her, filing the unfamiliar name away in his mind. “Let me introduce you to my friends over here and we can talk about it.” Travis motioned to the other three men on the roof top.

 

“You won't be safe here. Not from him.” She warned him. “No one is.”

 

“Is there somewhere around here that's any safer than this that we could talk?” Travis asked. “Somewhere where the guards don't know about maybe?”

 

He wasn't surprised when she nodded, and, glancing in the direction of the soldiers guarding the gate, she then said, “Come with me. Your friends can come too.”

 

* * *

 

A single strip of soft white light running the length of the ceiling continued to provide illumination to the small underground room into which La'el had led the four men. The room itself was no more than five meters by five meters.

 

They had reached the room after an hour of traversing tunnels dimly lit with similar light strips which the girl had led them through by way of an unassuming access door in the building upon which they had stationed themselves. Travis had guessed they might be thirty or forty meters underground from the surface above. There was the slight odor of rotting meat in the air, and a certain odd feeling through the Force that Travis couldn't shake, and didn't understand.

 

In the room was a table large enough for four adults with two broken metal chairs nearby, and a short yellowish sofa upon which lay a woolen blanket and a dirty pillow. On the walls of the room, posters, signs, and faded handwritten notes in a language unreadable to him, though seeming vaguely familiar, decorated the room sparsely. To Travis, it had the feel of an employee's break room.

 

La'el sat on the sofa, wrapping the blanket around her legs and hugging her pillow close to her chest protectively. She watched the two marines as they stood near the broken door which led into the room from the tunnel they had just come from.

 

“Dark soldiers don't ever come down here.” She told them. “That's why it's safe.”

 

“I believe you.” Ronan responded lightly, taking his rifle off of his shoulder and setting it down. It was shortly followed by his backpack. “I'd be lost down here myself.” He said as he sat down on the floor. He then motioned to the two marines to follow suit.

 

“How long have you lived down here, La'el?” Ronan asked.

 

“I don't remember. A long time. Mother brought me down here when I was little, after father died.” La'el responded, hugging the pillow tighter.

 

“Where is your mother? Can we talk to her?” Travis asked, though he could feel the answer as a wave of sadness radiated off of her.

 

“Dark soldiers shot her because she wouldn't read the book.” She said, her flat tone belying the anger and grief Travis felt through the Force. “Just like father.”

 

“What book?” Ronan asked, though there was a look of recognition on his face.

 

“The book. The only book the soldiers will ever let anyone read.” She answered, as if that explained everything. Then she looked at Travis's still clueless expression. How could he not know? “The Book of Origin.” She said, a little exasperated.

 

“Did Lord Teljens tell them to do that?” Travis asked, still not understanding the reference.

 

“No. But they got worse after he came. I heard he did things like the book says the Priors of the Ori could do. He even shoots lightning from his hands. He started teaching them how to do stuff like he could. I heard he told the people in the city he needed worthy soldiers in his army for when he goes to join the gods. They got faster, and they're better shots than before he came. They shot more of my friends after he came. Cleared out the city of all of us. Now it's just all humans there. All humans that follow everything he says. They don't like half-breeds. They call us demons because we're not all human like they are. Like you are.” La'el told them, eying them.

 

“Yeah, well we're not like them.” Ronan told her. “We just want to find him and make him stop.”

 

“I've got good friends that aren't human at all.” Travis told her, thinking of Doctor Phlox and T'Pol. “They're like family to me.”

 

“Father wasn't all human.” La'el told them. “Mother said he was mostly Sirrakan. Lots more than she even. I don't know. I was too little.”

 

“La'el, do you know how to find Lord Teljens?” Ronan asked. “So we can make him stop what he's doing?”

 

“How?” She asked. “How could you make him stop?”

 

Ronan looked to Travis and then back to La'el. “We have ways to do it, but we've got to be sneaky about it, and we've got to do it as soon as we can or else he might just join the gods and then he'll hurt more people everywhere, and not just here. Do you know how we might be able to get to him?”

 

“But everyone knows where Lord Teljens lives.” La'el replied. “He doesn't hide or anything. He lives in the big tower in the middle of the city, where the old leaders of the city used to live. That's where he teaches the soldiers how to be more like him.”

 

“Is there a way we can get to this tower without the soldiers in the city knowing about it?” He asked again.

 

She didn't hesitate. “The tunnels go everywhere under the city. That's how we get food and stuff. I told you, the guards don't go into the tunnels so it's safe for half-breeds like me. I can show you the tunnels that go under the big tower.”

 

The question kept bugging Travis though, “La'el, why don't the soldiers ever go down into the tunnels?”

 

“The tunnels scare them.” She said.

 

“Scare them, why?” Travis asked.

 

“Because of the ghosts.” She said.

 

Ronan then asked, “What ghosts?”

 

“The ghosts of the people they kill.” She responded. “They throw all the bodies and body pieces into the tunnel openings. That's what they did with mother and father. There's a lot of very mad ghosts down here, but don't worry. They won't be mad at you. At least, I don't think they will.”

 

Ronan looked at the girl, who couldn't have been more than ten years old. “Don't the ghosts scare you, La'el?”

 

“Oh, no.” She answered as though it was a silly question. “They're all my friends. Mother and father are ghosts too. Why would they ever hurt me?”

 

“Well, if the ghosts are your friends, then they're our friends too.” Ronan replied glancing at Travis, “Right?” He asked him.

 

“Sure they are.” Travis responded.

 

They talked some more with La'el, and then shared their field rations with her. Travis in particular gave her several of the energy bars that he had been given. Her thin frame looked like she needed them far more than he did. When she was done eating, she seemed to relax more and more until she leaned over and her eyes closed and she was out.

 

“Wow.” Ronan said in a whisper to Travis as he set up the broken chairs at the table and tested one. The chair could still bear weight. Travis took the other. “What do you make of what she said about these 'ghosts'? Anything in your Jedi training that could give us a little more insight?”

 

“No one ever said anything about it to me before, but it's not like I've had years at this. Let me see if I can learn anything. Give me a few minutes.” He replied.

 

Travis closed his eyes and lent himself to the Force, expanding his awareness to the tunnels under the city, though he tried to keep himself from stretching his probe up above to where the surface was. He allowed his conscious mind to follow the eddies and currents of the Force as it flowed through the tunnel system.

 

He could feel the presence of other living beings like La'el in the tunnels, though he couldn't tell if they were all children or not. There weren't many though. If he were to hazard a guess, he might have said twenty, maybe thirty at most.

 

The Force was _strong_ down in the tunnels. There was a lot of living Force energy in motion throughout the tunnels. There were feelings and emotions carried along those currents, and the impressions of individual persons, though not more than that. It was similar to what he experienced back on the desert world when Master Yoda had him open himself up to the “ghosts” of the ruined village. There was a great deal of anger. La'el was right. It was directed towards the soldiers above. But this anger stretched back many, many years he could feel. It was also a feeling of betrayal.

 

Much of the anger was concentrated in the center of the city. That was where the Force began to change and feel colder, and darker again. But it was different there as well. It felt like something or someone was tapped into all the anger and fear which had been imprinted on the living energy.

 

When Travis opened his eyes again, he wasn't sure how much time had passed. But Ronan was still sitting across from him.

 

“Well?” Ronan asked.

 

“There's something there.” Travis told him. “More like someone. Lots of someones. But they're fuzzy, not coherent really. Kind of like impressions or memories imprinted into the living Force. Funny thing is, you'd really have to be able to use the Force in order to know that they were there. I don't know how much they can really influence the living, but it might be possible.”

 

Travis looked towards the sleeping form of La'el as he said this. A suspicion had already been forming in his mind, one which he didn't quite yet know what, if anything, to do with.

 

“Do you think they could be a problem for us?” Ronan asked.

 

“I don't know. There's a lot of anger there, enough for the Force to feel dark, especially towards the center of the city. And another thing too, it feels weird like someone's tapped into it like a siphon or is feeding off of it or something.” Travis told him.

 

Ronan considered that new information. “What do you think that means?” He asked.

 

Travis thought, trying to remember anything which could be useful about the Sith and how they used the dark side. Then one memory surfaced, and then it was joined by another one. The movies he had been required to watch the year before, way back when they had gotten thrown to the other side of the universe; the mission which had started this whole thing.

 

“In one of those old _Star Wars_ movies, the main Sith lord, the emperor I think,” Travis started to say, trying to reason it out as he talked, “he kept trying to push one of the main characters further and further into using the dark side by making him more and more angry and afraid. When he finally succeeded, it looked like he was using the other guy's anger to feed his own power. I know it was just a movie, but a lot of other stuff from those movies was obviously real, so maybe it could be possible.”

 

“So you think our bad guy is using this pool of angry ghosts down here to power himself up?” Ronan asked, trying to understand what he was saying.

 

“Maybe. That's all I've got anyways.” Travis replied.

 

“Well, this mission just keeps getting more and more interesting.” Ronan remarked.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

 

The team spent the next two days talking with La'el, and learning from her and the other “half-breeds” who made the tunnel system their home. La'el had contacted those she trusted and brought them to meet Travis, Ronan and the two other soldiers with them. The half-human outcasts, both older and younger, were able to answer almost any question the Atlantis men asked about the city and its occupants. Through them they were able to piece together a picture of what had happened on Hebridan.

 

The picture they put together wasn't a pretty one, and felt all too familiar to all the men who heard it.

 

This city had been one of the first on the planet to be conquered by the armies of the Ori over a century before, and had been used as a strategic base of operations. There had already been a vocal,though minority racist movement against the non-human Sirrakan population and the half human people that had been the offspring of mixed relationships. When the Sirrakans had been the first to resist the Prior's message of Origin, the racist movement quickly adopted the new religion and a Jihad against all Sirrakans and their children followed and it quickly turned to mass murder and pogroms of genocide.

 

The Priors and their followers soon began to dismantle the technological society that had existed calling it heresy and the worship of idols and demons. The first thing which had been dismantled and destroyed was the intercommunications network which also had hosted the larger public library database. This was followed by all hard copies of any book other than the one they preached. Then it became illegal to teach or use the written Hebridan language, and the Priors forced everyone to either learn the written language of the book, or not learn how to read at all. Soon, the only book or reading material available to anyone was the Book of Origin, and those caught reading anything else were publicly executed by fire.

 

Then, within the span of only a few years, without explanation, the Priors turned on their own gods and began preaching against the Ori and the book of Origin. The population that was left went into a civil war, and whatever had been left of the planet's populace was again decimated as those who clung to the new religion for reasons of race or privilege fought hard against those now led by the Priors against them.

 

The city that had retained control of the stargate had remained a bastion of the religion of Origin up until “Lord Teljens” arrived. He had been the first person to step through the ring in living memory. It wasn't long before the preachers of Origin began to hail him as a long awaited true Prior of the Ori. His first act had been to publicly accuse the city's leaders of a lack of faith and then strangle them… from a ten or fifteen meters away… while they were suspended in mid air a meter off their feet.

 

They found out the man they were looking for had almost never left the central tower since he arrived on Hebridan almost a month ago. They had also discovered that, according to several of the outcasts, he rarely left his own private chambers which were located somewhere near the highest part of the tower. The soldiers were brought up to meet him when he spent any time instructing them.

 

As they heard more and more of the outcasts' stories, a plan to reach and end Teljens before the sunset on the third day began to develop.

 

* * *

 

 _It's a well of souls_. Travis thought, though didn't say. It seemed to be the most appropriate name for the huge dimly lit circular chamber into which the four men and La'el had emerged from the tunnels. In better times, it might have served as a kind of main control junction for vehicles and workers in the subterranean tunnels under the city. But the smell of rotting meat which grew stronger as they approached, and was now almost overpowering, betrayed its current, more grisly function. The air grew steadily warmer and more humid as they approached, even as Travis felt the space grow colder and darker in the Force.

 

Rage, terror, vengeance, all of these feelings slammed into Travis before he even entered the junction. The very air felt to him like it was charged with dark emotions like in a lightning storm. Then he stepped into the chamber, and it went from a storm to a hurricane of freezing, paralyzing dark side energy. Had it been directed at him or his team, he knew there was nothing he could have done to stop it.

 

Travis looked into the dimly lit chamber and down to the floor, knowing what he would see, but feeling like he needed to see it anyway. It was worse than his imagination had informed him it would be.

 

The floor of the chamber was covered with mounds of corpses. Men, women, the very old, and even infants lay strewn in horrific positions. Torn arms, torsos, heads and other “pieces” were scattered among them. All of them were in various stages of decomposition. Tiny worms, and some not so tiny, burrowed in and out of those that still had their flesh. There were flies everywhere, and the buzzing from their wings was almost deafening as it echoed off the walls of the chamber.

 

Almost immediately, Travis wanted to look away. Every instinct of self preservation told him to run, to flee, to get away from the closest thing to hell he had ever seen or wanted to see. He fought furiously within himself for control, drawing on his own memories of his friends and family to find the strength in the Force to resist giving in to the fear which was pounding him from the dark side.

 

One of the marines, Dex, began to gag and choke and turned back into the tunnel to vomit back up the rations they had eaten before they set out to reach here. Ronan covered his nose as he looked over the metal railing to the bottom of the chamber and then to the ceiling to get a better idea of their surroundings.

 

La'el's face was impassive and unaffected as she came out onto the metal grated walkway that ran the circumference of the chamber. Her calloused bare feet couldn't be heard at all. There was nothing surprising in what they saw to this little girl's eyes as she barely seemed to notice it. That fact alone made Travis want to take the girl and flee back through the Stargate to somewhere, anywhere else she might be safe.

 

His own face impassive, though Travis could see and feel a rage building behind his eyes, Ronan asked the girl, “How do we get into the tower from here, La'el?”

 

“The door into the tower is around there, on the other side of the pit.” She said, pointing to the opposite end of the “pit” as she called it.

 

“Man.” The other marine, Imaghan, exclaimed. “And I thought the Wraith were sick bastards. What kind of a monster could do all this?”

 

“The kind we put down.” Ronan responded, just a trace of anger giving an edge to his voice as he began to move in the direction La'el had indicated. Dex and Imaghan followed after him, as did La'el. But Travis stood where he was, his hands gripping the metal railing.

 

There were whispers of “ _Help us”_ all around him. He didn't hear them as much as he felt them, but they were real all the same. Hundreds of voices crying out to him for justice, for mercy, but especially for release.

 

 _They're trapped here._ Travis realized. _He's keeping them here somehow. I was right. He's feeding off of the fear and anger from their last moments, drawing energy from it like from a power cell._ It was overwhelming to him and his heart was torn and in intense pain for their plight.

 

“Travis!” Ronan's voice shouted to him, and he was snapped back into the here and now.

 

“I will.” He whispered back to the voices with resolution, and then shouted back to Ronan, “Yeah, I'm coming.”

 

As they reached the metal door around the chamber, Travis turned to La'el and told her, “Thanks for helping us get here, La'el. We can take it from here.”

 

“Are you going to kill him, Travis? Are you going to kill Lord Teljens?” She asked.

 

Travis couldn't answer her.

 

He didn't know why, but the question stung him. He had been assuming that the Sith lord would have to be put to death… by his hand.

 

 _I am going to kill him. That's what I came here to do, to be his executioner. That's what Master Yoda charged me with._ The thought hit him. He wasn't coming to arrest the man for trial. He wasn't coming to bring him back to a Starfleet court-martial. With the Klingons, with the soldiers at the stargate, their deaths were self-defense. This was very, very different. He was coming with the explicit intention of taking the man's life. And he would have to live with that knowledge both before, and after he did it.

 

 _What has happened to me?_ He asked himself.

 

 _But this is what a Jedi does when it's necessary_. The thought came unbidden to his mind. _Judge, jury, and executioner with impunity when the need arises_.

 

“Yes, La'el. I am going to kill him.” Travis answered the little girl without emotion. “It's what has to happen to stop all of this.”

 

“What about the soldiers? And the Origin preachers?” She asked, hope filling her eyes. “Are you going to kill all of them too?”

 

 _She's right._ Travis thought. _In order to stop all of this for good, they all have to be dealt with. Everyone Teljens has awakened to the dark side of the Force has to be stopped in order to keep it from spreading again._

 

“I don't know. But we need to stop Teljens first.” He finally responded.

 

Disappointed, she told him, “I suppose so. But if you can, will you?”

 

“You got a deal.” Travis told her. To himself he thought, _How?_

 

Then, satisfied, La'el left back the way they had came, and Ronan turned the strikingly old fashioned metal doorknob. The door creaked, but swung open easily. Ronan shone a flashlight into the darkened opening and onto a stairwell with metal grated steps which led up in a square corkscrew fashion.

 

“How far up you think it goes?” The marine Dex asked.

 

“I don't know. The buildings we saw from outside the city were pretty tall.” Ronan answered him. “A technologically advanced building like these used to be probably had some kind of a lift or elevator somewhere like Atlantis's towers do. Whether or not they might still be operating is another question entirely. We'll figure that out when we find one. For now, we climb.”

 

Ronan then started up the stairwell, eyes on everything ahead of him. The intelligence behind his eyes was calculating and devising plans. “Eyes peeled for soldiers.” He told the other men.

 

He and the marines had their plasma rifles in their hands, and wherever their heads or eyes turned, the business end of their rifles followed as they began to ascend the stairwell. Without conscious thought, Travis's lightsaber appeared in his own hand, though remained switched off as he followed behind.

 

* * *

 

The two armored soldiers patrolling the second floor hallway both began to feel lightheaded and disoriented at the same time. The one nearly lost his balance, but then recovered. And then everything was burning sharp pain in his chest. The next thing he knew he was on the floor next to his comrade, and then he didn't know anything at all.

 

Ronan fired a third shot from his sidearm at both guards and their bodies disintegrated leaving nothing behind. The scuffed tiled floor was slightly blackened, but unless someone really inspected the burn marks it wouldn't be distinguishable from the rest of the wear and tear.

 

“Clear.” He said out loud to the men behind him.

 

Imaghan then followed directly behind Ronan trailing a slightly disoriented and clumsy Travis. Dex brought up the rear.

 

“You okay, buddy?” Ronan asked.

 

“Yeah, I'll be fine.” Travis told him, looking like he was struggling to maintain his composure. “Let's just keep going. The longer we take, the more we lose the element of surprise.”

 

“I'm sorry about this,” Ronan told him for the second time, “but it's the only way we're going to move through the building safely until we can find our target.” Ronan told him.

 

“It's okay, I'm getting a little better with it.” Travis replied.

 

“Good. The longer you're exposed to it, the better a chance you have of overcoming it's effects. It just takes time.” Ronan said. “Now, let's see what's on this floor.”

 

They had already skulked around the ground floor in the same manner, but there hadn't been much there that might help them reach the higher levels of the tower quickly. After finding a map of the building, they realized it might take days to climb the stairwell to the top. They needed to locate a working lift, but so far, they hadn't found anything. Those lifts or elevators which started on the ground floor had stopped functioning a long time ago.

 

“You'd think the elevator would be close to the stairs. At least that's usually how most Earth buildings are designed.” Travis said, keeping his eyes open for anything that might look like a lift door.

 

“I don't think they'd be working on this floor either.” Dex spoke up. “I mean, they're all tied together right? So if it's not working on the floor below us, why would these be working?”

 

“Right.” Ronan agreed. “So, any other ideas as to how he's getting the new recruits up to where he's at?”

 

Then an idea hit Travis. It didn't seem likely, but it wasn't impossible was it? At that point, he wished Commander Tucker had been there to tell him why it could or couldn't be possible.

 

“What about a transporter?” He asked.

 

“Huh?” Ronan responded, looking around at the ruined hallways and dead overhead lighting. “What do you mean?”

 

“Just a thought, but maybe he brought some tech from home when he got here. I mean, it looks like the guy planned this out pretty carefully. That kind of equipment isn't exactly travel sized, but the basic components of it could be broken down into something that could fit through the stargate.” Travis replied. “Maybe what we should be looking for is a small transporter pad set up somewhere on the lower floors.”

 

Ronan considered this. Then something appeared to come to his mind and he snapped his fingers and said, “Maybe he didn't need to bring one with him. Maybe what we should be looking for is a ring platform. It's a transporter tech the Ancients in the Milky Way used, and was late adopted by most of the other races. Same idea as your transporter, but it requires a set of materialization rings and a pad at both ends. The race that designed our transporter technology originally based their designs on them.”

 

“You think there might be a set here?” Travis asked.

 

“The Ori brought them with them to the planets they conquered for rapid deployment of their troops from orbiting vessel to planetside.” Ronan responded.

 

“How do you know all this about them, Colonel? I went through Academy too, and I don't remember my prof getting that detailed.” Dex asked.

 

“Yeah well, I did my thesis on the Ori and their invasion of the Milky Way.” Ronan responded. “I thought it might impress the professor.”

 

“Did it?” Dex asked.

 

“No.” Ronan replied.

 

Travis then suggested, “Maybe there's a control down here somewhere to activate it. There's got to be. It's gotta be at least fifty floors to the top of the tower. How else would he get back up to the top?”

 

“Okay, so then we're looking for some kind of a control panel or pedestal.” Ronan said, revising his thinking. “I know we didn't see anything like that on the ground floor, so let's keep our eyes open for one. We'll also want to keep our eyes out for any guards that have a large bracelet on one of their wrists. Some of the ring platforms were operated remotely by an ornate bracelet on a lead soldier.”

 

The four men continued their search of the second floor. By the time they re-entered the stairwell half an hour later, there were no soldiers left. This process of sweeping continued for the next two floors. On the fifth floor, not far from the stairwell, they found themselves in a windowless room. It might have otherwise been a large storage room at one time except for the raised circular platform capable of holding four grown men at once if they stood close together. Nearby there was a coppery, rectangular control panel with blocky characters etched into its face.

 

“This is it.” Ronan said, inspecting it. “I'm pretty sure.”

 

“You know how to work it, sir?” Imaghan asked.

 

Ronan studied the small, hand sized panel. It was minimalistic, with only a single raised turquoise surface like a button. “I think it's pretty self-explanatory.” He then motioned to the other men, “Get on the pad, and leave room for me.”

 

Travis and the two marines did what they were told. Ronan hit the button with his palm and then rushed to join them. Almost as soon as he did, five large metal rings suddenly emerged from the platform and, stacking one on top of the other, surrounded them. Then they immediately vanished from the room in a flash of blue light.

 

Seconds later the four men found themselves in a similarly windowless room.

 

“Did it work?” Dex asked.

 

“You sure we went anywhere?” Imaghan asked. “Doesn't look like anything's changed.”

 

“Only one way to find out.” Ronan said, and then stepped off the platform towards the door of the room. “Weapons ready.”

 

Ronan took hold of the doorknob, and the door slowly swung inwards. Plasma rifle in his hands and ready, he took a step out of the room, checking to both the right and left of the doorway before fully emerging. When he was satisfied, he whispered, “clear” to the other men.

 

They had all emerged into a wide hallway that ran up against glass windows that ran from floor to ceiling. The windows were filthy from years of dust and dirt collecting against them, but were otherwise intact as the sunlight outside shone through them providing a natural lighting to the walkway.

 

Through the windows could be seen the whole city and the surrounding, ruined urban area. In the far distance could be seen open countryside, and even a wide body of water. Travis looked down through the window and, ironically, found himself far more comfortable as high up in the air as they were than he ever felt on the ground.

 

“I'd say we've definitely gone somewhere.” He remarked.

 

“Okay, we've made it up here. Now we find our target.” Ronan said looking up and down the hallway.

 

There were only very few doors along the interior wall. The one they had just come out of, one marked as leading to the stairwell, and a set of doors that marked where the elevator had once brought passengers to the upper levels of the tower. At the far end of the hall there stood another, more ornate wooden door with a gilded doorknob and the remains of a plaque of some kind that had long since become unreadable.

 

“Let's see what's behind door number one, shall we?” Ronan told the other men. Then he asked Travis, “How're you feeling? Still fuzzy?”

 

“Yeah, but I'm not tripping over my own feet any more so I think I'm getting used to it.” He replied.

 

“Good, then maybe we'll still have the advantage. Okay gentlemen, this is what we came here to do. No hesitation. No arrests. Nothing fancy. This guy's extremely dangerous. Think Wraith queen. You think you have the shot, you take it. Am I understood?” Ronan wanted his orders to be crystal clear to the two marines. He knew Travis didn't need to be told what had to be done.

 

“Yes, sir.” They both responded crisply in unison.

 

The four men crept slowly down the hall, weapons ready, until they reached the wooden door. Studying it, Ronan saw that the hinges had been placed on the inside. Quietly, he tried the knob again. The door unlatched and swung inwards without a sound.

 

Without a word, he motioned for the other men to follow him in.

 

They found themselves in the front open room of a spacious apartment that at one time had been luxurious, Travis was certain. Against the far wall, and up a short flight of steps was another large open window space which opened up out onto the whole city.

 

Against that window was a human form in a black cloak facing the expansive view of the city. His back was turned.

 

Without a word, Dex fired his rifle and a plasma bolt struck the man in the back without mercy. He screamed and fell to his knees, then his lifeless corpse fell to its side.

 

“Well, that was too easy.” Ronan remarked. He gestured to Dex to go up and confirm the kill.

 

The marine move carefully and slowly up the steps to where the man's corpse lay. He knelt down and checked for a pulse, but kept his eyes on the badly burned and cauterized hole that had been blown into the man's chest. He looked up towards Ronan and drew the index finger of his right hand against his throat, and then shook his head.

 

The next thing Ronan saw was Dex's own head explode. The marine's headless corpse fell next to the man he had just himself killed. After that came the blue shimmer of energy fields surrounding the three remaining men, leaving them just enough room to stand together but no more.

 

From a side room, another man emerged though his face remained hidden in the shadows of the large black cowl he wore. Ronan fired his own plasma rifle at him but the blast was absorbed effortlessly by the force field around them.

 

“Please do continue.” The newcomer said in a perversely conversational voice. “I would much rather you expend the rest of your weapon's power cells on the force fields before I lower them.”

 

He drew closer to them and stopped in front of Travis as if studying him.

 

“I know you.” He finally said. “Lieutenant Travis Mayweather of the _Enterprise,_ Archer's ship. I expected someone from Starfleet to eventually come looking for me. Archer's crew has been the most resourceful, so I suppose it only makes sense. But you didn't come through the stargate did you? How then did you arrive here in the Gamma Quadrant, well beyond the range of any warp capable ship that we know of?”

 

He then looked to Ronan and Imaghan and said, “You however are something of a mystery to me, though not as much as you might believe. Congratulations. I'm not a man easily taken by surprise. And to have soldiers from Atlantis… It is Atlantis, yes?”

 

He directed the question at Colonel Shepherd, who stared at him silently, a range of emotions and thoughts racing behind Shepherd's eyes. He made no effort to draw back the black cowl which hid his eyes.

 

“Yes, I thought so.” He continued. “Oh, don't look so surprised. And yes, if the hangover I'm feeling is any indication, your little disk is doing it's job with me quite well. But I survived in my chosen occupation for decades before I came to learn how to use the Force. I don't need the Force to do my research and make logical deductions. The old Stargate Command database left all the clues I needed to conclude the survival of the old research base and Stargate personnel in the Pegasus galaxy. Though I have to admit, I didn't expect a personal visit from you.”

 

“Lord Teljens, I presume.” Travis said. “I guess the other guy was just convenient today.”

 

A smile appeared deep within the recesses of the cowl, just barely visible. “Yes, that is the moniker I am going by here, isn't it? It was a suggestion by the holocron that taught me so much. _Darth Teljens_. I thought it had a nice ring to it, but I opted for 'Lord Teljens' instead among the people. And yes, Overseer Gellans was quite convenient to have up for his lessons today. Pity, he showed real promise. I shall have to find a suitable replacement.”

 

“So, now what? You bore us with your evil plan?” Ronan asked sarcastically.

 

“I suppose I could.” Teljens replied. “We do appear to have some time on our hands until I adapt to your anti-prior device and I can kill you safely without dropping the force shield. But then, I'm interested to know what you think it is. Perhaps we can entertain each other with speculation?”

 

“I'll pass, thanks.” Ronan replied.

 

Teljens then turned to Travis, “What about you, Lieutenant. Would you care to debate the merits of my 'evil plan'? Perhaps once you hear it, you won't think it's quite so evil. Given the history of your missions with Enterprise, you may even agree with me.”

 

“You murdered innocent people. There's no justification for that.” Travis responded.

 

“And yet, your own captain stranded a ship full of 'innocent people' without a warp coil all so you could use it to accomplish your mission to stop the Xindi weapon from destroying Earth itself.” Teljens replied.

 

“That was different.” Travis responded. “Captain Archer still hates himself for it.”

 

“And what if I were to tell you I'm doing all of this to find a way to protect Earth, and even Earth's new coalition allies, not just from a single alien threat, but from all of them.” Teljens spoke as he began to slowly walk around the circular blue energy enclosure. His hands were held behind his back as he talked.

 

He stopped in front of Ronan, but continued to speak. “I have spent almost a lifetime trying to protect our 'democracy' from all threats, extra-terrestrial and terrestrial. But the further we go out into this galaxy, the more threats like the Xindi, like the Klingons, like the Romulans we continue to face. And each time, instead of dealing with the threat as we can, the politicians pull back. The idealists get together and have a pow-wow and everyone sings a feel good song all while my men and I remain in the shadows on the front lines of a war to keep them safe that they know nothing about. I'm sure you can understand exactly what I'm talking about, can't you? If not you, then perhaps your ancestors?”

 

He addressed this last question to Ronan. The Colonel's face remained impassive, and unreadable. Teljens continued his slow circuit around the men.

 

“The United States Air Force learned over a century and a half ago of a human race advanced enough to transform themselves into nearly omnipotent beings of pure energy existing on a higher dimensional plane. Did you know one of their own scientists was assisted by one of these 'ascended beings' in himself joining their ranks before he ran afoul of their rules and was cast back down to live among us mortals again? But while he remained ascended, he had access to a nearly limitless knowledge of what was in the mind of every mortal in the galaxy, and nearly limitless power to go with it, hampered only by the rules the other ascended beings imposed on him.”

 

He stopped in front of Travis this time. Turning to face him he continued to speak.

 

“Unfortunately, being a mere mortal has its drawbacks. I had no ability to pursue this line of thought until my discovery of the Lucas archives, and the very Ancient holocron devices contained within. The Force, as I have learned, is a very, very powerful ally indeed. It didn't take me long to realize the potential of this wonderful new tool I had been gifted with towards realizing my full potential. Natural ascension, however, takes years of meditation under the best of circumstances. Unfortunately, in order to overcome my own physical limitations sooner rather than later, I had to resort to, er, 'harvesting' dark side Force energies to overcome those limitations. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, as the Vulcan philosopher would say.”

 

Travis began to feel a cold darkness radiating from the man as he spoke. It was barely discernible, but with each passing minute as the man talked the feeling grew stronger, slowly but certainly.

 

“So you just happened to teach your guards how to use the Force in your spare time?” Travis asked, trying to keep him talking.

 

Teljens paused and stared at him from beneath his cowl. After a minute, he shook his head and began his slow circuit around them again. “Many of the people here still worship the Ori. When I came through the stargate they took me as a prior or a prophet, especially after a few 'demonstrations'. They began to believe in me. Perhaps that doesn't sound like much, but I began to grow stronger in the Force through the power of their belief, much like with another's fear or anger, though much less immediately potent. Teaching those with the 'gift', as it were, accelerated this transfer process and gave me more competent guards. Soon, I intend to draw the rest of Section thirty-one's agents here and train those capable of it as well. With my ascension, Section thirty one will impose an order upon the Milky Way unlike any it has ever seen before.”

 

 _I don't think so._ Travis thought to himself, and he began to push out his awareness through the Force as his mind and instincts began to clear.

 

Teljens felt like a cold dark void and Travis could sense the tendrils of dark side energies swirling around the man. The man was a cold nexus of dark Force power. Around the room, more dark energy flowed attempting to find purchase with Teljens, but prevented by the neutralizing effect of the anti-prior device. Once he was able to overcome the device, the Sith lord would have access to all of them. Travis would need to get to him before that happened. But how?

 

Then things moved as if in a blur as the energy force shield dropped, and Travis found himself blown backwards as though he had been hit by a truck. Using the Force he flipped and landed on his feet in a combat stance. His lightsaber appeared in his hand, it's blade humming its deadly song.

 

Behind him, and against the steps, Dex and Ronan appeared to be unconscious. Their weapons had been flung far from their reach.

 

“I am impressed.” Teljens said, malice dripping from each word. “Once again, you have managed to catch me by surprise. Do be aware that this will be the last time you do… Jedi.” Teljens raised his hands up towards Travis. They crackled with a violet and violent charge of energy.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

 

Travis caught the first blast of dark lightning on the shimmering blade of his lightsaber as he shook off the last of the effects from the still active A.P.D. He felt as a blind man who had been given back his sight.

 

Deflecting the lightning he darted across the room and away from the unconscious men on the floor. He assumed another stance on the opposite side near the opening to another room within the apartment.

 

“I see you've had more than just Starfleet training, Lieutenant.” Teljens said, all pretense of congeniality gone from his voice to be replaced by concern.

 

Travis didn't answer, but instead called on the living Force around him. Shadow tendrils of fear and anger wrapped themselves around him, threatening to suffocate his mind and emotions with their intensity.

 

 _No!_ He fought to control his own heart as the dark energy swirling around the room threatened to break him. He thought of his brother, and his mother, and all of his friends and family on the _Horizon_. The letter of recommendation his dad had written to Captain Archer became an anchor of light for him to hold on to. A beacon of light energy formed within him and began to drown the darkness.

 

His awareness exploded outward as he allowed the Force to overwhelm him, drinking it in like water to a man dying of thirst. He thought of the little girl, La'el and everything she had lost. He thought of his friends and crewmates, and everyone else he cared about. He drew strength from the faith his captain, and even his master Yoda had put in him to accomplish this mission. He allowed his compassion and love for them to become a consuming fire of Force energy within himself.

 

“The dark side destroys everything and everyone it touches, Teljens!” Travis shouted at him. “You can't protect anyone with it! You've got to know the _Star Wars_ story just as well as I do! And look what happened with the Ancients and the Ori! Look at the devastation their wars wrought to just this world! Think! Is that what you want to happen to Earth?!”

 

“You don't understand the real power of the Force, do you, Lieutenant?” Teljens said as he attempted another, more ferocious blast of lightning. “The Force is whatever you want it to be. It responds to your own emotions and empowers them in return. The only 'darkness' or 'light' in it comes from the person who wields it.”

 

The lightning struck Travis's lightsaber, and he began to struggle to hold it back. He dug deep again, and the Force flowed around him as the lightning overwhelmed his weapon and enveloped him in it's deadly charge. But instead of striking him, it flowed around his person, redirected to somewhere behind him. Travis then felt an intense heat against his back as a section of wall caught fire, but he himself was unharmed.

 

“I think I understand it well enough.” Travis responded, and then thrust out the heel of his hand driving the Force in front of him and it struck Teljens hard, sending him backwards across the room.

 

Teljens did a backflip and landed on his feet. His cowl came down and Travis saw his features for the first time. He looked like a middle aged caucasian man with graying hair. Wrinkles lined his face, making him appear much older than Travis thought he should have. But the most distinguishing, and disturbing feature was the man's pale yellow eyes. They were bloodshot, and the irises were lightly highlighted with a thin ring of red.

 

Then the man pulled a phase pistol from his cloak and fired. But Travis had seen it before it happened, and the beam was caught and deflected by the energy blade in front of him. A sofa nearby caught fire as it couldn't withstand the heat of the blast. Smoke began to fill the room.

 

“Give this up.” Travis told him.

 

“And just what are you going to do, Lieutenant? Arrest me? Take me back to Starfleet Headquarters for a court-martial?” Teljens laughed at him. “And just how are they going to court-martial a living god?”

 

The Teljens leaped for him, faster than a human eye could see, but Travis had sensed it through the Force and side stepped. Bringing his lightsaber to bear, the blade made contact with Teljens' head right at the eyes and kept on going.

 

The Sith Lord fell and didn't rise again, half of his head a meter from the rest of it. “They're not.” Travis told the corpse.

 

The fire spread across the apartment, and the blaze grew hotter and more intense. Travis ran to the two unconscious men and felt them in the Force. They were still alive. Up the steps, there was nothing he could do for Dex.

 

Then Ronan moaned and stirred.

 

“Lay easy, Colonel. I've got to get you and him out of here.” Travis told him.

 

“Is he dead?” Ronan asked as he rubbed his head and tried to sit up.

 

Travis looked back to the corpse on the floor. “Yeah, he's dead.” He replied without emotion.

 

“His body hasn't disappeared? No weird energy beings?” He asked.

 

“No. I made sure of it.” Travis told him. His blade had been aimed for Teljens' head in such a way as to destroy the brain before he could even have the chance to ascend in his final seconds.

 

Then there was a violent explosion of violet and dark blue energy behind them and the force of it threw Travis forward, and squeezing his eyes shut, he anchored himself in the Force, using it to cause most of the destructive force to flow around himself and his surviving companions.

 

When he opened his eyes again, most of the apartment had been destroyed. All of the windows looking into the open sky had been shattered and blown outwards. The fire which had been raging was extinguished.

 

“What the hell was that?!” Ronan shouted, his own ears still deafened from the blast.

 

Travis had his suspicions, but didn't expound on them. Instead he just replied, “I think La'el's friends are free to go… wherever, now.”

 

Ronan then stood up, but Imaghan was still unconscious. “What about those holocron things?” He asked.

 

“There's no time, the whole city has to have heard that blast. Soldiers will be up here any minute and we've got to get Imaghan out of here before they are.” Travis told him.

 

Ronan looked at him and said, “We came to finish this Travis, once and for all. Mission's not accomplished until the holocrons are secured one way or the other. I'll get Imaghan out of here. You go destroy those things.”

 

Travis looked pained as he saw his friend still struggling to stand after the hit he had taken, but he knew he was right. “Alright, get going. They've got to be in what's left of this place somewhere. I can't imagine he'd have let them too far out of his reach. I'll be right behind you.”

 

Travis then turned back to the rest of the apartment and surveyed the scene. Above him, he could see a clouded blue sky through the open air of a roof that had been mostly blown off. The twisted skeleton of shredded steel framework, insulation, cabling, and wooden structures were clearly visible through the rupture which the blast had made. Debris and broken pieces of blackened furniture lay strewn everywhere.

 

 _How am I supposed to find them in this?_ He asked himself. _I don't even know what they look like_.

 

He reached out once more with the Force, probing the remains of the apartment for anything which might respond.

 

 _There_. There was a slight twinge, almost imperceptible, but real. It came from what might have been the wreckage of a bedroom or even a study. Travis stepped over a mangled reclining chair that might have been an expensive antique once upon a time and entered the smaller room.

 

The interior walls looked to have taken most of the blast. There were no furnishings in this room to speak of except a woven mat or rug on the floor. Previously lit candles sat cold on the floor at the far end. In front of the candles sat a black metal box.

 

Travis went and knelt down next to the box and opened it. Inside were three geometric solids, a pyramid, a cube, and a multi-sided shape. The pyramid glowed with a red light, and felt malevolent, hateful even towards him as he passed his hand over the shapes. The cube felt warm and inviting, like an old friend that had been expecting his return. His hand lingered over that cube for just a minute, and a female voice which felt familiar began to speak in his mind.

 

 _This is all the recorded knowledge of Jedi Grand Master Jaina Solo. Welcome Jedi._ The voice told him. _What would you like to know_? The voice of the long dead Jedi Master he had briefly met in a galaxy far, far away asked him.

 

 _I could learn more from this._ Travis thought to himself. _As a Jedi Master I could protect Earth and those I care about and teach others to do the same._

 

“How do I best protect everyone from the dark side?” He asked aloud.

 

The cube glowed with a blue light traced in patterns around its surface, and Travis could feel it responding to the Force around him.

 

She replied, _By letting the mistakes of the past die with the past._

 

He understood.

 

He thumbed the switch to his lightsaber once more, and stabbed down into the box three times. When he was done, the melted slag had no more wisdom or teaching, either light or dark, to offer anyone ever again.

 

Sensing danger once more, he left the room and returned towards where he had left Ronan and Imaghan, seeing that they weren't there he ran for the now splintered doorway they had come through and into the hall, now covered in shattered glass.

 

He ran down the hallway to the ring transporter room they had emerged from. There he found Ronan and Imaghan slumped on the floor surrounded by the dark, medievally armored soldiers. Their staff weapons pointed directly at them.

 

“Stop!” One of the soldiers yelled at him. “Or these two die!”

 

Before Travis could respond, both Ronan and Imaghan's unconscious forms disappeared in a flash of blue light.

 

“You were saying?” Travis quipped, his lightsaber lit and in hand.

 

Then Travis felt a familiar dizzyness, and momentary blackout.

 

And then the next thing he knew he was standing on the bridge of the _Enterprise_. His _Enterprise._ Captain Archer stood in front of his chair. Malcolm and T'Pol stood at their respective stations to the rear. As he looked around the bridge, everything was as it should be. It felt surreal.

 

“Captain?” Travis asked, not sure whether or not to believe his own eyes.

 

“Welcome home, Travis.” Captain Archer said with a smile.

 

It was the sweetest three words Travis had heard in a long, long time.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

 

The spartan metallic walls of the _Landry's_ briefing room began to feel cramped and claustrophobic after the two hours of debriefing the Atlantis warship commanders insisted on having with him. As a courtesy to Travis and his own commanding officer, they requested Captain Archer to sit in as well, but there was no doubt as to who they felt was in charge.

 

Travis hadn't even had the chance to rest or get a hot meal before his presence had been requested at the prearranged joint debriefing, and the exhaustion he felt after the last two days was beginning to take its toll.

 

It certainly wasn't the first time Travis had been debriefed after a mission, and just as certainly wouldn't be the last. But it was the longest and most tedious interview he'd ever had. Every detail of every minute of their encounter down on the planet had to be gone over in painstaking detail. And just to be certain, Colonel Hawthorne made sure to make audio recordings of all of Travis' testimony.

 

“And you're absolutely certain these holocron devices were destroyed? There's no possible way they could be repaired and reused?” Hawthorne questioned him again, for the third time.

 

“As I said,” Travis answered, though his patience was wearing extremely thin, “I stabbed each one individually with the lightsaber. When I checked each one, there was nothing left that I could see but blobs of liquified metal that had solidified. I can't see any possible way someone could reconstruct the devices or the information they had contained from what was left. If there was, it would be a level of technology that would be so far beyond you or I it might as well be magic.”

 

Captain Archer mostly remained silent at the questions being asked as he put together a picture in his own head of what his officer had accomplished. He had sat through more than his fair share of tough debriefings, especially after the Xindi mission, and knew this was just part of the job.

 

“About how many of these Sith trained soldiers would you estimate are still on the planet's surface?” Colonel Ellis asked.

 

“I don't know. We saw a lot of soldiers both in the building, and patrolling the city streets. I got the impression of the dark side from most of them, but not all the soldiers had been trained in that way. And it wasn't just soldiers. I saw evidence of religious and civic leaders being trained by Teljens as well. I don't think I can give you any kind of an accurate number though.” Travis responded honestly.

 

“How about an estimate?” Ellis asked.

 

“It's a pretty big city down there, but it's also mostly empty in comparison to its size. We took out a lot of them, maybe upwards of fifty or sixty. But most of those were in the building. If I was to estimate how many were left based on the size of the population, I'd guess no more than a hundred, a hundred and fifty maybe?” Travis told them.

 

“So there are potentially a hundred and fifty of these Sith lords with potentially the same capabilities as the one you killed, and with the potential to pass that knowledge on to others, is that what you're saying, Lieutenant?” Ellis pressed him.

 

The same thought had been weighing on Travis heavily for two days. “Yes, sir.” He responded.

 

“Is there any way to detect these people other than through your own special abilities?” Hawthorne asked.

 

“Not that I'm aware of sir. There might have been six and a half million years ago in Master Yoda's time, but not now.” Travis responded.

 

Ellis looked to Hawthorne, his expression unreadable, though through the Force, Travis knew his mind was working quickly. There was a distinct feeling of fear, as well as determination behind the man's eyes. From Colonel Hawthorne, Travis felt some moral struggle within him as if he was wrestling with a difficult decision. _But what decision?_ Travis couldn't say.

 

“One last question, Lieutenant, and then we'll let you get some rest.” Hawthorn told him.

 

Travis nodded wearily.

 

“Are you absolutely certain that these people have no capability for spaceflight. They cannot leave their world at all without the stargate? Is that correct?” He asked him.

 

“Yes, sir. To the best of my knowledge, what previous technology they possessed in that capability no longer exists or is no longer functional. And from what La'el told us, Teljens was the first and only person to come through or use the Stargate in any fashion in living memory.” Travis answered.

 

Hawthorne nodded, apparently satisfied. He then looked to Ellis and Captain Archer who sat in line from him across the table opposite Travis. They all nodded their heads, satisfied with the Lieutenant's answers.

 

The ship's commanders stood up and motioned for Travis to do the same. Ellis and Hawthorne then both shook his hand saying, “Thank you for your testimony today, Lieutenant Mayweather. It's going to help us make some difficult decisions in the next day or so.”

 

“If I may ask, what do you mean, sir?” Travis asked, a cold feeling running down his spine.

 

“That's for your captain and us to discuss, Lieutenant. Thank you again. Captain Archer will lead you back to your ship.” Ellis told him crisply, and Travis knew he wasn't going to be given any more information, at least not from the Atlantis commanders. He was just a helmsman once more.

 

Captain Archer led Travis back to the airlock where _Enterprise_ had remained docked with the _Landry._ It was two decks down, and a decent walk from the briefing room. Neither said a word.

 

After they passed through the airlock into _Enterprise's_ own familiar corridors, Travis asked, “Sir, what are we going to do about the remaining dark side users on the planet. Their people figured out how to use the stargate before. Using the Force, it may not take them long to figure out how to do it again. And then this galaxy will be facing a bigger threat. I know Master Yoda told me to end it here and now. He said the Jedi have to die with me, but how is that possible when they're still down there? It may take years, or even centuries, but eventually they're going to force the conflict again. How can I let the Jedi die with me when their order may be needed to combat the future threat?”

 

“Hawthorne used his own transporter to relocate the Hebridan stargate into his cargo hold less than thirty minutes after we arrived in orbit, Lieutenant.” Archer responded. “No one is either coming to or going from Hebridan using the stargate. They're trapped there.”

 

“For now.” Travis said, still not fully convinced.

 

“For now.” Archer agreed.

 

* * *

 

It was early morning before dawn when the blue chevrons of the stargate in Atlantis's gateroom high atop the central tower began to light up, as did the constellation symbols across its face, and a swirling vortext of energy whooshed out, and then just as suddenly collapsed into a pool of energy that appeared as a bright glowing puddle of water across the circle of the ring.

 

Immediately an energy shield went up across it. The control room received a transmission through the open wormhole, and a call was made.

 

The recipient of that call responded by coming to the gateroom herself dressed only in a night gown, robe, and slippers. This was a call she had been expecting for nearly a month. It was too important, and too sensitive to take anywhere else but there. It took her less than ten minutes from bed to control tower.

 

Governor O'Neill listened to the mission report of her ship commanders with rapt attention for nearly twenty minutes. She knew they only had less than forty minutes until the wormhole closed, and that it could be an intense power drain to keep it open artificially any longer than that at that distance, even for the _Landry's_ zero point energy modules. Hawthorne and Ellis tried to be both brief but thorough in their report, barely mentioning the routing of the alien attack on Earth's solar system, and focusing solely on the mission Colonel Shepherd and his team, including the Earth officer, had completed. They concluded by offering their own recommendations as to how to resolve what problem was left.

 

And now she was left with a difficult choice. And it was hers alone to make. Her commanders wouldn't act without her authorization.

 

“How many people are on the planet?” She asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

 

“Our sensors indicate some ten million inhabitants scattered throughout the planet, mostly human.” Hawthorne reported.

 

“Our sensors concur, Madame Governor.” Ellis agreed.

 

 _Damn_. She thought, but kept to herself. _So many._

 

“And how many just in the city in question?” She asked.

 

“Our sensors indicate an area population of just under fifty thousand humans. We've also picked up a minuscule population of alien lifeforms we believe to be the Sirrakan population described by the girl, who was herself also a member. That total number of persons with this DNA signature comes out to about eighty three persons in the area of the city, most of them in the subterranean section described by Colonel Shepherd.” Hawthorne reported.

 

“We concur with this assessment.” Ellis reported as well.

 

 _Fifty thousand people. Fifty thousand mothers, fathers, children… All because of a hundred and fifty men. This shouldn't be my decision._ The Governor struggled with herself. _But can we allow any possibility of another Ori war? What would the cost in lives be then? Millions? Billions? So this is what it comes down to. How much blood do I want on my hands? But perhaps we can save some…_

 

She made her decision.

 

“You are authorized for a limited area strike, Colonels. Ensure that the atmosphere and environmental area outside the strike zone remains intact. You are also authorized to remove any persons who assisted with the success of the mission from the area.” She told them. “Bring them here if you have to.”

 

“Madame Governor, are you certain about this? If there's even one of these Sith that is outside of the bombardment area...” Ellis began to say.

 

“I've made my decision, Colonel.” She said sharply. “And you have your orders.”

 

“Yes, Ma'am.” Ellis responded, chastised.

 

* * *

 

“A bad decision this is.” The Ancient One said to himself as he listened to the conversation. “Need for this slaughter there is not.”

 

While the governor's mind was far out of his reach for the moment, the minds and thoughts of the two Atlantis Colonels were an open book to the ascended being. He did not like what he saw.

 

“Fear this action drives.” He said. “The dark side this will empower. Worse for everyone will this make it.”

 

“It is their decision, Ancient One. We cannot stop them from exercising their free will.” Uria appeared, the feeling from her radiated concern.

 

“No. Keep their free will they must. Right you are, Uria.” Yoda replied. “But do nothing, I will not.”

 

“You intend to interfere again, Ancient One?” She questioned.

 

“One last time.” Yoda responded. “To ensure that the last time it may be.”

 

“How can you ensure they won't try again without violating our own laws?” Uria asked.

 

“Made for protecting life laws were, not for allowing it to be taken.” The Ancient One told her. “When their job they do not, set aside they must be.”

 

“You intend to reveal our existence to the mortals?” Uria asked, genuinely shocked.

 

“Our existence these mortals already know.” Yoda responded. “Not new information it will be.”

 

“The Others may cast you out for this, Ancient One.” Uria warned him. “They will not allow your return.”

 

Had Yoda himself been mortal, he would have been staring directly into her eyes as he replied with a deadly seriousness, “Tired I am of such empty threats. Try let them. If succeed they do, worth it such punishment is.”

 

Uria made no answer. She was speechless at his reply.

 

* * *

 

Archer had resumed his chair on the bridge of the _Enterprise_. The forward viewscreen held a true color sensor image of the planet below. It was filled with abandoned cities which had once rivaled Earth's own advanced civilization, as well as animal drawn carts and wind powered sailing vessels that ran the coastline of its oceans.

 

“Captain, sensors are indicating a massive storm beginning to build over the city.” T'Pol reported.

 

“Are we now reporting the local weather, Commander?” Archer asked, not understanding the relevance. Storms were a natural weather phenomenon on any planet.

 

“Captain, this storm appears to be highly electrically charged and will reach hurricane strength in less than five minutes. There were no indications of inclement weather just five minutes prior to my 'weather report'.” T'Pol reported.

 

“On screen.” Archer ordered as he watched the scene change to a swirling pattern of dark clouds gathering at an incredible rate of speed over the city where his helmsman had just been located. Even from that distance, enormous flashes of blue and white lightning could be seen playing across its surface. It was like no storm or weather pattern Archer had ever seen before. And it was poised to strike at the heart of the city.

 

“What is that?” He asked, stunned at what he saw. “It looks like the wrath of an angry god.”

 

* * *

 

“Is the last transport complete?” Hawthorne asked his operations officer. “How many Sirrakans do we have.”

 

“All eighty three alien life signs accounted for, sir, split between the _Landry_ and the _Enterprise…_ uh, our _Enterprise,_ sir. They are all receiving emergency provisions and ship's services now.” His ops officer replied.

 

 _At least we could save these few_. Hawthorne thought to himself. And then silently prayed, _If there's any Ancients left out there, please, keep me from having to do this now._ Out loud, he started to say, “Arm dro...”

 

He was interrupted in the middle of the order.

 

“Sir, I'm picking up a massive weather disturbance over the city. It just appeared out of nowhere.” His ops officer reported. “It's interfering with our sensor readings of the area somehow.”

 

“Can we get a target lock on the city?” Hawthorne asked, hoping he knew then what the answer would be.

 

“No, sir. We can't get any kind of sensor lock whatsoever.” His ops officer said in frustration. “There's too much electrical interference. I don't understand it, sir. It wasn't there five minutes ago. It just appeared out of nowhere.”

 

Silently, and with misty eyes Hawthorne sent a thought to whatever deity had heard his prayer, _Thank you._

 

“Are you alright, sir?” His ops officer asked him.

 

“What? Why would you ask that?” Hawthorne asked gruffly. “Eyes on your display, Lieutenant.”

 

“Yes, sir.” The ops officer responded, his eyes fixed to his computer readouts.

 

* * *

 

That night, La'el's former home had experienced the most devastating electrical storm the planet had ever known. Lightning struck again, and again, and again as thunder boomed like cannon fire across the region leaving the residents shaking. Buildings were set ablaze, scorch marks covered the streets, and what little electrical power was generated for the operation of street lamps and other rudimentary devices was interrupted as the city grew dark. Lit only by the constant strikes of lightning like no one had ever seen before, or would again.

 

It was dawn by the time the storm moved on. As people came out of their homes, and many the rank tunnels under the city where they had taken refuge, they surveyed the damage. Eventually they came upon ghastly discovery after ghastly discovery as body after body of religious leaders and soldiers were found burned so badly they were almost unrecognizable.

 

After the city had been thoroughly searched and inspected, it was found that two hundred and sixty three people had lost their lives to the lightning that night. All of them were adult men. All of them had been known to be devoted to the religious service of the Ori. And all of them had been loyal to Lord Teljens who was never seen again.

 

And a few noticed that no one saw any sign of the half-breeds. Not in the tunnels where many of the people took refuge. And not even their corpses. Some even suggested that they had been rescued by the gods from the judgment which had been rendered. Once this became known, many people in that city took it as a sign from the divine, and many began to search their divine book for answers and many more began to openly question how they had interpreted the word of their gods, especially where it came to the half-breeds and outcasts.

 

* * *

 

The weapons on board the _Landry_ refused to come online, even after the electrical storm had passed. The same was true of the _Enterprise's_ systems as well. Hawthorne and Ellis ran check after check through the systems, but their engineers and technicians could find nothing.

 

Hawthorne sat in his own office adjacent to his own bridge going over report after report of frustrated engineers declaring that nothing was wrong with the systems. They just refused to work.

 

And Hawthorne smiled at the reports as he sipped his morning coffee from his stainless steel mug. Sooner or later he would have to report mission failure to Governor O'Neill, but he wanted to wait as long as he could.

 

“Your weapons, you need them here no longer.” A gravelly, elder voice told him. “Dead they are, all those who were a threat.”

 

Hawthorne looked up from his desk, but saw no one. He then stood up and looked down.

 

There below the line of his desk stood a tiny, radiant being filled with light. His elfin, alien appearance did nothing to restrain the reverence and awe that filled the hardened warship commander. Immediately, from the histories and legends of his own people he recognized when he was in the presence of an Ancient.

 

Out of respect he bowed his head and crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “Ancestor. I am honored.”

 

“A good man you are, Colonel Hawthorne. Stained with the blood of innocents your hands need not be. Tell Colonel Ellis you must. Disarm. Go home. Done your work in this galaxy is.”

 

“Yes, Ancestor.” Hawthorne replied solemnly, obediently. “I will tell him and Governor O'Neill.”

 

“Ensure the Earth ship returns safely to their people you must.” The Ancient instructed. “Without interference their own future for themselves they must write. And also the Sirrakans. Abuse them do not. A new beginning that they might have.”

 

“Of course, Ancestor. It will be done. You have my word.” Hawthorne told him. He had never meant anything so seriously in all of his life.

 

The ancient alien being nodded his satisfaction, and then vanished.

 

Hawthorne brought his hands to his face and rubbed it as if to see if he were actually awake. It was only then he realized the two matching wet streaks down and across his cheeks. Stunned at what had just occurred, he almost fell back into his chair.

 

Then, remembering his promise, he immediately had his communications officer contact Colonel Ellis on the Atlantis Warship _Enterprise._


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

 

Captain's Log: August 2nd, 2159

 

 _This will be my first log entry in the last eight days, the events of which I am not sure as to how to describe, or how much will eventually be deemed classified. For the past week we have been working in concert with starships from a technologically advanced lost Earth colony in the Pegasus galaxy appropriately called “Atlantis.” It was through their assistance that we were able to repel an attack by an overwhelming force of Klingon warships. After that, the_ Enterprise _was towed by them across half the galaxy to the Gamma Quadrant where we assisted in picking up Lieutenant Mayweather and what remained of an Atlantis special operations team from a successful mission which required the Lieutenant's special training in the Jedi religion and martial arts._

 

 _Upon our return to Earth's solar system, I was informed through the ship's commander of the_ General Landry _that the Atlantis government has requested that they not establish, or in this case re-establish formal relations with Earth. They gave no explanation as to why._

 

_Lieutenant Mayweather had requested to cancel the indefinite leave which had been granted to him, and to return to active duty upon his return to the ship three days ago. I questioned the timing. I believed it to be too soon after all of the potentially traumatic events which had occurred to him over this past month and a half. Dr. Phlox agreed with me. Travis insisted that he was fine and fit for duty at the helm. We came to an agreement that he take the three days of transit through hyperspace and one extra upon our return, and see Dr. Phlox for regular counseling during that time before he returns to duty at the ship's helm. So far, so good. Phlox tells me he is making excellent progress. He has one more day, but I don't anticipate any residual issues which would affect the performance of his duties._

 

_We have resumed our previous position in orbit around Neptune, and are awaiting contact from Starfleet. To be honest, I feel at a loss as to how to fully explain all this to Admiral Gardner, or even if I should._

 

The _Landry_ and the other _Enterprise_ had only departed less than two hours ago, and Archer felt like he was still trying to process everything that had happened over the last six weeks—no it had been longer even than that. It had been a roller coaster ever since he had received their orders to investigate the derelict ship.

 

 _We still don't know how a six and a half million year old Imperial Star Destroyer_ _got there. I wonder if we ever will._ Archer mused to himself. _We'll add it to the list of unanswered questions, like what that mysterious storm was and where it came from, and why Hawthorne and Ellis had after it been satisfied to keep their stargate and not pursue the possible Force users. From their questioning, I had gotten the distinct impression they were going to bombard the planet to deal with them._

 

“Sir, I'm receiving a message from Starfleet. Admiral Gardner is on a secure channel. He wishes to speak with you immediately.” Hoshi reported to Captain Archer.

 

Archer had been expecting the call upon their return from piggybacking through hyperspace with the _Landry_. He had spent the last three days considering what he was going to tell his superior to explain their absence, which had to have gone noticed. The Admiral wasn't a bad man by any stretch, and truly it wasn't he that Archer was concerned about. It was everyone else that might be privy to the data _Enterprise_ had collected. What would Starfleet Intelligence do with it? And who was ultimately controlling them?

 

“I'll take it in my ready room.” Archer told her. He stood up from his chair, straightened his uniform, took a deep breath and let it out, and then made his way to the cramped office adjacent to the bridge.

 

With the door slid closed behind him, Archer went to his desk, sat down and flipped on the display. The bearded face of Admiral Gardner greeted him.

 

“Captain Archer! Finally! we've been able to get through to you. You've been out of communication for over a week. You dropped off sensors completely. No one could find you or get a hold of you after the Klingon forces mysteriously turned back near your position. We waited for you to report, and you never did. What happened?” Gardner asked, real concern etched on his face.

 

Archer paused and took another deep breath, letting it out slowly as he put together his thoughts. _I would have trusted Admiral Forrest. I didn't always agree with him, but I trusted him._ He reminded himself. _I've known Gardner for just as long. There has to be trust at some point in time._ Enterprise _can't fix this all on our own._

 

He then asked, “Admiral, is this channel completely secure? There's no possibility S.I. or any other agency could be listening in on it?”

 

The Admiral's face changed to a grave seriousness and he looked down at something off screen, manipulating something with his fingers. “Go ahead, Jon. We're completely off the books now. It's just you and I. What's wrong?”

 

“Admiral, have you ever heard of Section Thirty One? And have you ever heard of a secret facility for S.I. under Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado?” Archer began, and then he debriefed his superior on everything which had happened over the last six weeks.

 

The Admiral's expression went from grave seriousness to an intensity of concern that Archer had rarely ever seen in the man as Archer reached the conclusion of his report. There was a long pause as the man considered the captain's words. Finally he cleared his throat and responded.

 

“I understand why you didn't say anything about it before, Jon, but I wish you would have trusted me enough to bring me into the loop sooner. Hell, we were all test pilots together, Jon.” Gardner sighed. “I knew almost as little about the finds under Cheyenne Mountain as you did when I authorized the hyperspace trials on _Enterprise_ over a year ago, and I'm supposed to be the one in charge, even of S.I. But there's a lot the President of United Earth doesn't share with me. The orders for that experiment, as well as the inspection of the derelict ship in Klingon space came from his office, not mine. I just passed them along. I'm being completely honest with you now when I say I didn't know anything about S.I. or any branch of it restoring a pre-war United States installation in Colorado, much less the finding of this 'stargate'.”

 

Gardner's expression became pained as he continued. “As for the rest of it, all I can say is I'm relieved you and your people were able to stop this rogue agent before he could complete his plans. Destroying the data devices that started it was a good call on the part of your Lieutenant. The possibility of someone like that operating here and now, especially with the Federation talks still going on… I don't want to think about it. I wish I could give you the name of the officer that went rogue, but I don't know it. I've heard the name 'Wilson' connected with some S.I. black ops before, but nothing more than that. At least now we know why twenty of Starfleet's best and brightest suddenly disappeared without a trace over a month ago. I'll make sure their families are notified.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” Archer said. “I'm sorry for not reporting all this sooner...”

 

Gardner put up his hand to stop him. “Don't. In your position, I would have done the same. I'll do what I can on my end to smooth over your disappearing act, but we're both going to have to be careful on this Jon. If I'm right, then the people pulling the strings on this are a lot more powerful than either one of us, and they're not going to want the information on the stargate system getting out to Earth's public, much less to our own Coalition allies. I can make some discreet inquiries into Cheyenne Mountain, but I'm still learning that my influence only goes so far where S.I. is concerned. Regarding your helmsman, it sounds like he's chosen to keep himself quiet and return to duty like nothing's happened. Good. See that he does. As long as all of it regarding the Jedi, the Sith, and the Force remains classical science fiction, no one will raise an eyebrow.”

 

Archer nodded his agreement. He had been thinking the same thing.

 

Gardner continued. “For now make back-ups of your sensor logs, reports, ship's logs, and anything else pertaining to the last six weeks and store them securely on board until we can figure out something better, and then erase the originals from _Enterprise's_ data storage before you send in your next data transfer. We'll call it a malfunction of some sort if we have to. Make sure your people say nothing about what they know to anyone. With some luck, we can avoid drawing the wrong attention to you and your crew.”

 

“And if Section Thirty One does return to Cheyenne Mountain?” Archer asked.

 

“If they do, then quite frankly there's very little either of us can do except hope they keep to their original mission of protecting and preserving Earth. So far, with this one exception and that due to extraordinary extenuating circumstances, they have. Fortunately, it seems those extenuating circumstances have been permanently dealt with.”

 

Archer bit his tongue, keeping his own bad feelings about allowing the rogue agency run free in check, and said nothing in response except, “Yes, sir.”

 

After all, he was just the captain of a starship. There was only so much he could do.

 

* * *

 

Travis sat at the table in the mess hall eating chef's version of lasagna for lunch. The normally star filled windows were dominated by Neptune's massive blue disk. Once more he wore the blue Starfleet coveralls with the NX-01 insignia displayed proudly. With the exception of the long thin rod in his thigh pocket, it almost felt like his recent experiences as a Jedi could finally be considered over.

 

He had just come from a morning session with Dr. Phlox. According to Phlox it was going well. One more day, and then he would be allowed to return to where he most wanted to be and it would be like nothing had ever happened...

 

Except it had. And as much as he wanted to just forget everything and let that part of him, that _Jedi_ part of him, go, he found himself unable to part with it fully. Thing is, he didn't know why. Way back in the Jedi temple, an eternity ago in a far flung galaxy, he had protested to Grand Master Jaina that he was just a pilot. That's how he had always seen himself. He was a good pilot. Everyone had always said so. That's all he ever wanted to be before.

 

He never wanted to make life and death decisions for anyone, much less ones that could affect a whole planet, or even a whole galaxy. But over the last six weeks, that was exactly what he had been forced to do.

 

 _This is what we do_. The words went through his mind for the hundredth time. _But it's not what I want to do._

 

And then there was the constant presence of the Force. He felt the living energy calling to him from every person, everywhere he went. It called to him and it felt _right_. He continued to feel a belonging and a peace through the Force that hadn't been there before.

 

_How do I just let that go?_

 

“Is this seat taken, Lieutenant?” Another uniformed crew member asked.

 

Travis looked up to see a crew member with sandy blond hair and the look of a scholar about him. There was something very, very familiar about him.

 

“No, go ahead. Maybe I could use the company.” Travis told him. “The lasagna's not bad today. Chef did pretty well with it.”

 

“It smells great.” The man said as he placed his tray on the table and sat down. “I haven't had a good lasagna in forever.”

 

“You look really familiar, but I don't recall seeing you on board recently.” Travis said.

 

“Oh, we've met before, but I think it has been a long time. My name's Daniel.” He told him.

 

Travis snapped his fingers, “That's right. San Francisco. You stopped by to talk then too. I didn't realize you were in Starfleet. So, you've been assigned to _Enterprise_?”

 

“You could say that. For now at least.” Daniel replied. “It's been an eventful few weeks to say the least. It must feel good to get back to a normal routine again.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose it does.” Travis replied.

 

Daniel took a bite of his lasagna and chewed slowly, letting the taste of the cheese and sauce mix in his mouth. “Mmm.” He said as he swallowed. “Chef outdid himself. This is the best lasagna I've had in a long time.”

 

“Yeah, I thought so too.” Travis remarked with a smile.

 

“Hey, hope you don't mind if I ask, but weren't you training with some kind of special instructor recently? He used to come into the mess hall a lot didn't he? I haven't seen him around lately, did he disembark somewhere?” Daniel asked.

 

Travis's expression turned a little sadder, “No. He, uh, he passed away a month ago. I guess it wasn't made public knowledge to the rest of the crew.”

 

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.” Daniel said as he took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “He seemed nice. He always had some bit of wisdom to impart when I saw him.”

 

“Yeah.” Travis agreed. “I kind of wish he was here now. I feel like I could use some of that wisdom.”

 

“Well, I don't know what kind of issue you're facing, but what do you think he'd tell you if he were here?” Daniel asked him.

 

Travis looked away to the Neptune dominated window.

 

“Something tells me you already know the answer.” Daniel said.

 

“Have you ever been a religious man?” Travis asked.

 

“I've always tried to keep an open mind.” Daniel replied.

 

“I feel like I've come the closest to God or something like God that I've ever been in my life. I love being just a pilot. But I'm afraid that somehow I'll lose that connection if I do what he wanted me to do and go back to just being a pilot.” Travis confessed to him. “It's like I feel as if I'm going to lose a fundamental part of who I've become.”

 

“But isn't God supposed to always be there? I mean, I'm no priest, but if whatever it is you're talking about can just vanish because you change jobs… It just seems to me that the divine is more permanent than that. Isn't the divine supposed to always be with you?” Daniel replied.

 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Travis said, taking another bite of his own lasagna.

 

“It's kind of like that old movie, 'Star Something Or Other'. I don't know I get all of those mixed up, but I remember one of the characters saying, 'the Force will be with you always.'” Daniel told him.

 

Travis paused and put down his fork, “What did you say?”

 

“The Force will be with you, always.” Daniel said again. “No matter what you choose to do in life. It will be there to guide you and work with you whether you've got a lightsaber in hand or you're flying a starship. At least that's what I got out of that movie series.” He then then focused on finishing his lunch, which he appeared to do with gusto.

 

Travis stared at Daniel suspiciously. “Yeah, I guess that's true.”

 

After another few minutes, Daniel looked at the watch on his wrist. “Well, I've got to get back to work. It was good seeing you again.”

 

“Yeah, thanks for the conversation, Daniel.” Travis said. “Don't be a stranger.”

 

“Hope not.” Daniel replied, and then went to dispose of his tray leaving Travis to his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

The halls of the newly refurbished facility deep under Cheyenne Mountain were quiet. The overhead lighting had been left on, though no one had needed it. Computer displays and control panels showed readouts and sensor information which no one had looked at in over a month. The stale smell of death and charred flesh still hung in the air. It might as well have been a tomb.

 

Then the space in in the gateroom front of the stargate shimmered and glowed with a bluish white light. Within seconds four men in black versions of Starfleet's uniform coveralls materialized as if out of thin air. They immediately stepped out of the way, and fifteen seconds later, another four men materialized. This process continued until there were twenty uniformed men standing in front of the Ancient metal ring.

 

A single man stepped out and away from them and looked around to get his bearings. He appeared to be in his thirties with dark hair and a goatee with a splash of gray. His eyes scanned the whole room, and then he brought them down to a tablet which he manipulated to bring up a schematic of the facility and a message bearing the seal of the United Earth President.

 

Satisfied with what he saw, he nodded to the other men in the group and said, “Alright men, it's confirmed. Stargate Command is completely off the books now and is ready for our use. Let's get this place cleaned up and open for business.”

 

 

The End

 

 


End file.
